


Pretty and Pragmatic

by MaevesChild



Series: Borders Yet to Be [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-15
Updated: 2014-03-15
Packaged: 2018-01-15 19:49:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 45,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1317145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaevesChild/pseuds/MaevesChild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grey Wardens do whatever is necessary to destroy the darkspawn, and sometimes that means some pretty extreme things. When duty fails you, you have to find something else to live for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Blood._

_It is a stink on her skin and everywhere in the air like a living thing; or a dead thing she just can't resist. Her own blood, his blood, the black poison blood of the darkspawn sings into the air, flies from the tip of her sword. She twists her body, a spark along the glimmering silver blade, crackles though the air like lightning._

_Spellweaver. Deathbringer._

_Her sword flies out in an arc, the hurlock's head parts from it's twisted neck with a thick, wet sound. Collapsing to the soaked earth with a thud and_ _**then** _ _screaming. Loud, hideous, inhuman keening that makes her head want to split open._

_Her own voice._

_In the place of her home, the place where she thought she would have a moment of peace, there is now a gaping maw of destruction, of horror. It is worse and better than she hoped it would be, this homecoming._

_Battle and blood fill the hole in her chest that Loghain's absence_ _left behind. She knows horror, she breathes her own kind of fire. She will be as he made her; she will be as she promised. Bitterness has no place on a bloodied blade. And if only that were really true, Loghain would have been healed of his old wounds long before he drank darkspawn blood and became her brother. Her brother, and her lover both._

_But that is over now. For better or for worse, she is alone in this battle. The battle for her life; she spins, parries a wicked black blade, sends fire into eyes that melt like ice in the sun. The battle for her soul will take longer. It may take forever._

_She shrieks and it is then she knows a moment of calm behind her eyes. This a battle she can win; in other battles there is only surrender. There is only acceptance and it cannot be bitter; she will not let it be._

_She is a Grey Warden, that trumps everything else. Even love._

_Grey Wardens do whatever is necessary. Sometimes, blood and battle are necessary. Sometimes they are the only things to hold on to when everything else has been taken away. When left with nothing but duty . . . and a promise to keep . . . she must do_ _**whatever is necessary** _ _._

* * *

 

 

* * *

 

"By all that's holy," Kya spat, "If the three of you don't stop bickering, I swear I will cast a glyph of paralysis on you and leave you here for the darkspawn."

Oghren snorted and gave her a dubious look. The others did not know her well enough to determine if she was serious of not, and at least Mhairi had the decency to look nervous. Anders, on the other hand, looked unimpressed.

Kya unsheathed her sword and pointed it at Oghren.

"Don't test me," she growled. "Not this time." Amazingly, he said nothing and only nodded. Then again, Oghren knew she  _was_  half serious, after all.

The battlements were up ahead, and the taint in Kya's blood was screaming at her. She knew whatever had done this, whatever thing was responsible for ravaging the Vigil and killing the other Grey Wardens, it was up there. It was waiting for her.

And it was going to die, no matter what it was. A dying soldier told her it was a darkspawn that talked. Kya couldn't even begin to fathom what that meant.  _And_ they were organized, and although she didn't understand it, she knew what that meant. This wasn't a Blight; that felt different. It meant that something else was leading them.

A little part of Kya wondered if she hadn't really ended the Blight after all. The soul of the old god was in . . . Loghain's child. Somewhere in the wilds, Morrigan was carrying the bastard child of the Hero of River Dane, and  _Maker_ , what if it had consequences they hadn't expected? Kya shook the thought away. There would be time for self doubt later. Now there were darkspawn to kill. The taint sang in her veins.

"Come on," she whispered, and they followed. It was awkward though. She missed the easy grace she'd developed with her companions during the Blight. She missed Loghain, she missed Zevran and Maker help her, she even missed Alistair. Whatever else he was, he was handy to have in a fight. She knew she could trust his sword at her back, even now when she knew a part of him wanted to put his sword  _through_  her back.

With the exception of Oghren, these others didn't understand her. Anders thought he did; he remembered her after all. But he remembered a child still not yet Harrowed before his last escape. He remembered a little girl who followed the rules of the Chantry, and who hadn't learned secrets that they wished had remained lost.

In the dark ruins beneath the Brecilian Forest, she'd learned her skills from a mage's soul trapped in a glittering gem. A soul so long parted from breathing that it was more mad than human – or elven – she was never quite sure. This was a skill no mage should know, no more than fueling her spells with her own blood. She was a warrior fueled by magic instead of strength and this was as taboo as her blood magic. These were skills that sent an ancient mage to slumber, locked into a prison he could not escape and skills that sent Jowan to his death.

Anders was going to be unhappily surprised.

But it didn't matter. Whatever the Chantry or anyone else might want to say about her, she was the sodding  _Hero of Ferelden_  and if they sent their Templars to take her as a maleficarum? Well, she wished them luck.

Perhaps this was the best thing that could have happened, in a twisted way. As she ran, she recognized nearly nothing of the keep that had become her home,  _and Loghain's home_. Whatever horrors awaited on the battlements, whatever carnage, this was not the same place she'd shared with him.

It made it easier somehow.

It also made her a sick, selfish woman maybe. But at the moment, Kya didn't care. Battle washed away her pain, and that was good enough.

* * *

"Andraste's knicker weasels," Anders swore. "What was that? Blood magic? Are you mad?"

Kya sighed. "Probably. What's your point?"

"I mean, I'm grateful that you spared me from the Templar at the gate, but I . . . ." his voice trailed off. He looked beyond flustered, tucking and untucking an errant lock of hair behind his ear.

"Listen," Kya said sternly, "If you are going to be of any use as a Grey Warden, there are things you have to accept. We do whatever we have to destroy the darkspawn. Sometimes it isn't pretty." She sighed again. "Besides, I'm hardly the first Grey Warden to use blood magic."

"That doesn't make it right!" he snapped irritably but then his face crumpled. "I'm not sure I like any of this Grey Warden thing . . . . poor Mhairi."

"No, it doesn't," she replied. "But it's no more wrong in the eyes of the Chantry than being an apostate. And as far as the Grey Warden  _thing_  is concerned, remember that you'd be lucky to be in Aeonar, instead of dead, if you hadn't joined us." Kya watched as he sat down hard on the edge of the makeshift desk they'd found for her. He looked pale under his tan. "And someday, we'll join Mhairi too. But if no one was willing to make the sacrifice, then we'd all be dead. Or tainted. Or something worse."

Anders frowned a little at that. "You do have a point there."

"I know I do," Kya continued. "Besides, I've never used my blood magic on anyone except an enemy. You don't need to worry that I'll be tapping your blood to fuel my spells. My own works just fine."

"I'd really like to believe that," he said. He ran his hand through his hair again. "I just . . . I heard what happened to Jowan, and I knew he was your friend. I thought that maybe . . . ."

Kya cut him off. "I know exactly what happened to Jowan. I was there for all of it," she spat. "His escape and his execution. I was also there when he went into the fade and saved a child from a demon. Blood magic . . . it isn't evil Anders, and using it doesn't make someone evil. A person can be evil, all on their own, but magic can't. Magic just  _is_. You should know that."

He nodded. "I suppose I do. I guess I'll just have to trust you then, won't I?"

"You will," she said. "I don't care what you've done before, and you'll need to feel the same way about me if we're going to get through this. You're a Grey Warden now; its forever."

Anders grinned. "Pretty and pragmatic. I like the way you think."

"Don't get your hopes up," Kya smiled, shaking her head. "I know how you are."

"Oh?" he said, quirking an eyebrow at her. "And how is that?"

"Don't you remember?" she laughed. "When I found you and what's-her-name in the broom closet? I couldn't have been more than thirteen at the time. It's a wonder I'm not scarred for life."

"Ah yes, old what's-her-name," he snickered. "I remember her well."

If there was one thing she knew about Anders, it was that he was apparently an excellent lover – if you didn't mind that he forgot your name by morning. She hoped he would make a better friend and a better Grey Warden than that. She was in desperate need of both. There were three now at her disposal; Anders, Oghren and herself. And something was brewing here, under the keep and along the coast. Kya knew she was going to need all the help she could get, and so far, they were it.

_Maker help them all._

"Commander?" a voice came from the door. It was Varel, the seneschal that the senior Warden from Weisshaupt had instilled while she was away. He seemed a decent enough man, steeped in duty as he was. But he had kind eyes and he hadn't once contradicted her orders. Of course, she assumed her saving his life from whatever the sod that talking darkspawn  _thing_  had been was part of that.

"Yes Varel?" she replied. "What is it?"

"It's not a rampage of twenty year old virgins is it?" Anders offered from behind her. She threw him a dirty look over her shoulder and he just shrugged. Varel had the dignity to only acknowledge it with raised eyebrows before clearing his throat and continuing.

"I'm afraid not," he replied. "I know that you are exhausted, after all that has happened since your return. But there is one more urgent matter to attend to before it gets worse."

Kya closed her eyes. "Are you sure it can't wait?"

"I suppose it could, but we are so short of men that I cannot justify wasting one to guard duty in the dungeon," Varel explained.

"We have a prisoner?" Kya asked, surprised. It seemed unlikely. They wouldn't capture a darkspawn alive; and who else would be foolish enough to come unwelcome into a keep full of Grey Wardens?

"Yes," Varel said quietly. "They thought he was a thief, but certainly no ordinary one. We don't know who he is, but it took four Grey Wardens to capture him." He pursed his lips. "Some of them even suggested that he might make a good recruit; skilled and completely mad."

"Huh," Kya replied. "Sounds like a Grey Warden to me."


	2. Irony

This was the last place he thought he'd die.

And there was no doubt in Nathaniel Howe's mind that he was going to die here, locked in the dungeon of what should have been his own home. The home that his family had lived in for generations, until the sodding  _Hero of Ferelden_ ,  _the Grey Warden_ , this  _Kya Amell_  or whatever her name was, showed up, murdered his father and tore everything apart.

He sighed and ran a hand through his tangled hair. He was so sodding angry – despite the rumors he'd heard since returning from the Free Marches – he just couldn't accept that he father got what he deserved. Everyone told him that Rendon Howe had earned his death; assassins, slave trading, trying to murder the Queen, but it just seemed . . . bah, if he thought about it honestly, it seemed entirely possible.

That was the worst part of it.

Nathaniel had come to the Vigil in the dead of night like a madman, obsessed with the idea of ending the Commander of the Grey. If didn't matter that the rumors said the Commander was a mage, that she was a woman, that she was very young and that she was beautiful. But he knew how rumors worked. More likely she was a half grown hedge witch with a wart and a fancy set of robes who'd gotten lucky. They said she'd conscripted Loghain Mac Tir and together they'd ended the Blight. Loghain had more likely done it, but his own part in the civil war overshadowed his true victory.

That had to be the truth. That  _was_ more likely after all.

Nathaniel looked up at the sound of the door creaking open. The guard posted to watch him snapped to his feet, obscuring his view of the doorway. The guard stammered and stumbled and looked entirely flustered.

"Commander!" the idiot managed to blurt out finally.

He heard a low female chuckle in reply. "At ease man," she said. "Don't pop a vessel. I'm just here to meet this prisoner."

"Yes ser!" the guard snapped. There it was again, that tired laugh.

"Go find Varel, will you?" she said, taking the keys from the guard's shaking hand. "Once you manage to drag him back here, I'm sure I'll have made a decision of what's to be done with him."

The guard nodded vigorously and he brushed passed her so fast that the plates on his mail scraped against hers, spinning her around. She was wearing blood splattered plate mail, dragonbone by the look of it. Nathaniel was confused by that. She was supposed to be a mage. What mage wore armor? She shook her head at the door.

Slowly, she turned to face him, walking forward until she was out of the shadows in the doorway and her face was lit by the lamp on the guard's table.

 _Sod it_ , Nathaniel thought.  _Of all the parts of those rumors to be right . . . well, he wasn't going to let a pretty face change anything. It_ _ **didn't**_ _change anything._

"So," Kya said," slipping the key into the lock and turning it. Nathaniel heard the clink of the tumblers in the lock. She pulled the cell door open with a creak, apparently completely unconcerned that it took four of her kind – and strong men at that – to capture him.

"If it isn't the great hero, conqueror of the Blight and vanquisher of all evil _,_ " Nathaniel snapped before she could speak again. "Aren't you supposed to be ten feet tall with lightning bolts shooting out of your eyes?"

She gave him a crooked grin. "Not typically, but you never know," she replied. Nathaniel supposed that she was used to being humored, and considered charming. He wasn't impressed.

Folding his arms across his chest he glared at her. "Somehow I just thought my father's murderer would be . . . more impressive." He furrowed his brow. "I am Nathaniel Howe; my family owned these lands until you showed up. Do you even remember my father?"

"Well," she replied. "You're Arl Howe's son. That explains a lot. But let's not mince words, shall we?" She leaned back against the bars of the cell, but the look in her eyes was hardly relaxed. "Your father brought his end on himself."

"My father served the Hero of River Dane!" Nathaniel spat. Before he could continue, Kya snapped to her feet, charging towards him until she was only a pace away from him.

"Don't. You. Dare," she growled, each word a complete sentence. "I know Loghain Mac Tir, and don't you dare propose to know what happened." Her face was pale as death. Nathaniel was not a man easily intimidated, especially not by a woman a half head shorter than he was, and hardly old enough to be called a woman at that. But he took an unconscious step back, his hands falling limp to his sides and his knees banging into the makeshift cot behind him.

"Oh?" he snorted, trying to maintain his composure. "I didn't know they spent much time teaching mages about Ferelden politics."

Kya gritted her teeth. "They didn't," she snapped. "But that doesn't change the fact that you weren't here." Her finger flung out and poked into the middle of his chest. "So if you think you can turn this around and make it my fault . . . I dare you to try."

Nathaniel did his best to look unimpressed, but knew he was failing miserably, as she continued. "Why were you here? What did you think you were going to accomplish?"

"I came here," he began, and then frowned hard. "I thought I was going to try to kill you; to lay a trap for you." He sighed, defeated. "But then I realized I just wanted to reclaim some of my family's things. It's all I have left."

"I'm sorry," she replied, stepping back. "I only did what I had to do."

"Look," Nathaniel said, crossing his arms across his chest again, "Whatever my father did shouldn't have to harm my whole family. The Howes are pariahs now, those of us that are left and it's all thanks to you. And now you get to decide my fate." He laughed bitterly. "Ironic isn't it?"

"Irony is apparently my specialty," she replied. 

"I'm sure it's all very amusing," he said, turning his back to her. "A laugh riot."

He heard her growl, but didn't turn around. "If you had no part in what your father did, perhaps you should try to redeem your name."

"Of course," Nathaniel sneered. "I'll head to Denerim and sign up for King Alistair's service; I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have a Howe in his guard."

"You have a point there," she said. He heard the clink of her armor against the cell bars again. "Alistair isn't exactly known for being forgiving." She sighed again and he turned around, finding her rubbing her temples. "What would you do if I just let you go?"

"If you let me go?" he asked incredulously. "I don't know; I only came back to Ferelden a month a ago." He snarled at her. "If you let me go, I'll probably come back here, and you may not catch me next time."

She dropped her hand and looked up at him sullenly. "So be it," she replied.

Before she could speak again, Varel and the flustered guard returned. Kya stood and strode out of the cell, her back turned to him fearlessly. Nathaniel wished for a dagger so he could find some weakness in her armor, someway to have his revenge despite it all. But it was too late for that, no matter what she'd decided. He realized that all he would do is add another murderer to his family tree. He couldn't bear the thought that he might be that sort of man.

Better that she do what had to be done. It was the only sensible decision, considering his angry words. She'd have him executed, just like she'd ended his father. It would be a sad, but apparently fitting ending to line of monsters. That is what everyone thought after all, and who was he to deny the masses their  _justice._

"So you've met our prisoner," Varel said, chuckling, snapping Nathaniel out of his pondering. "He's quite the handful, isn't he?"

"Did you know this was Nathaniel Howe?" she asked him, rubbing her forehead again.

Varel's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that makes sense," he said. But seemingly unimpressed, he continued. "Have you decided what to do with him?"

Without hesitation, she replied, "I have decided to invoke the Right of Conscription."

"What? No!" Nathaniel said, charging out towards her. "Hang me first."

Kya looked up at him and shook her head. "You act as if I'm giving you a choice."


	3. Compassion

Kya hated this part. She'd never admit it to anyone, but watching the Joining made her sick to her stomach. As if her own hadn't been horrifying enough – Daveth and Jory dead and the archdemon screaming in her head like she thought it would explode. But the day she watched her childhood hero drink poison, no matter how angry she'd been at the time, was like an unending bad dream.

She somehow expected this would be easier. It wasn't.

She'd made it through Oghren and Anders joining with little hysteria. Even when Mhairi fell, she kept her composure, better than she had expected. But she couldn't help but realize how sodding  _young_  Nathaniel Howe was. He was probably older than Kya, but she'd forgotten what it meant to be young. And frankly, Loghain had become in her mind what a  _man_  was, and . . . he wasn't young. Not for a long time.

But Nathaniel was. He moved with a weird, easy grace than reminded her of Zevran and she had no idea what to make of him. He was angry and sullen; yet resigned and complacent as Varel spoke the words.

"Join us brother. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant," Varel's deep voice echoed off the stone walls, reverberating in Kya's head. Every time she heard those words it sent a chill through her. And what was worse, no matter who said them, it was always Alistair's voice she heard; Alistair's voice sad and pensive, and positively eerie.

Nathaniel pressed the goblet to his lips, his brow furrowed but seemingly intent upon not cringing at the foul taste. It was a flavor Kya knew she'd never forget. Gingerly, he handed the cup back to Varel, his skin paling. Instead of the coughing and choking as Kya feared, his eyes rolled back into his head and he tumbled to the floor in a heap. Varel followed quickly after, down on to his knee.

"The Howe is strong," he said quietly. "You chose well; he will live. Maker help us all."

"Thank you Varel," Kya said as the man rose to his feet, leaving Nathaniel lying cold and unresponsive on the floor. "I can . . . take it from here. Someone should be here when he wakes."

Varel didn't look pleased as the idea of leaving her alone with him, but Varel was a soldier and Kya his commander. He knew his duty. Nodding sharply, he strode out of the room purposefully, with just one last glance over his shoulder at Kya before he closed the door behind him.

A part of her wanted to kneel down beside Nathaniel, wait for his eyes to open as Alistair and Duncan had done for her. But she suspected he might need a bit more time to adjust to her presence. Instead, she sat back on the steps a few paces away and watched. She might have a long time to wait, so she leaned back on the heels of her hands, letting her eyes wander.

The main hall at the Vigil seemed an odd place for something as intimate as the Joining. But it was one of the few places that were seemingly untouched by the darkspawn incursion. Bookcases lined the walls, a few statues littered among the books. And there were so many paintings, beautiful and detailed, hanging at regular intervals between the cases. Dragons. Battles. One that she swore was Loghain, with his back to her in that silver Chevalier armor he wore, his sword raised to the sky. She was surprised she hadn't noticed it before.

At the far end of the hall, there was a portrait of a stern but lovely woman with pale grey eyes. Nathaniel's eyes, Kya realized. She glanced back at him, tearing her eyes away from the painting. He groaned a little, shook his head and his eyes flickered. But he didn't wake, not yet. He was trapped in that first darkspawn nightmare; the same nightmare that would haunt him for the rest of his life. Kya turned her eyes to the portrait again and then back to Nathaniel. His mother, likely.

He groaned again and shuddered. Kya fought the urge to shiver; she remembered what he was seeing behind his closed eyes better than she would have liked. Slowly, his hand moved, coming up to cradle his face. He half turned on to his side and turned his head, rubbing his eyes and blinking.

Kya stood and walked over to him, warily watching as he tried to focus his eyes. She held her hand out to him.

"Welcome brother," she said. He stared at her hand for a moment, as if it was some poisonous thing, but reluctantly, he took it and let her drag him to his feet. He wobbled a little and Kya steadied him with her hand on his arm. He was gripping her hand like a vice, the little bones in her wrist grinding against each other.

"What in the name of the sodding Maker was that?" he asked. His eyes were drilling into her relentlessly.

"That," she explained, "was just the beginning. Just wait, it gets worse."

"Wonderful, now let go of me," he said, shrugging off her hand on his arm and letting go of the other. He took a step back and stumbled, just barely keeping his feet.

"Yes, well," Kya said, stepping forward again and taking his elbow. "You can be all indignant and stubborn later. Now, we need to get you to bed before you fall and split your head open."

"That would be a terrible tragedy," he snorted. "I'm sure." But he didn't fight her as she started to lead him out of the hall towards the barracks they'd set up nearby. The upper floors were a wreck, so they were all sleeping in various rooms, certainly not intended for that purpose.

There were rows of beds, although few were occupied at this time of day. Somehow the relatively few bunks made Kya's heart sink. This was all the soldiers they had left?  _Maker's breath, they were in some serious trouble._

Trying to ignore that and focus on the task at hand, she looked around and realized this was no place for a newly joined warden. Anders and Oghren had small rooms near her own, but there weren't any others prepared. She hadn't expected to find another Warden so soon. Abandoning the idea of leaving him in the main room, she led him to her own room that adjoined her office and planted him on the bed. He moved like a wooden toy soldier, but was surprisingly quiet.

"Boots," she said to him. Nathaniel looked up at her incredulously. Kya sighed. "Boots. Off."

"Sod off," he managed.

"Yes, yes. You're very scary," she sighed again, kneeling down on the floor and unlacing his boots for him. "But you aren't going to get mud on my linens."

With no help from Nathaniel, she maneuvered his boots off, tossing them into the corner. Once they were off, he still just sat stoically, staring at his hands laying limp in his lap. His breathing was slow and shallow and Kya wasn't entirely sure he hadn't fallen asleep sitting up. She reached up and put her hand on his shoulder and he jerked to attention, throwing her hand off.

"Fine," she said. "Go to sleep. You can hate me when you wake up."

Surprising her again, he laid down obediently, curling his legs up to his chest. He looked like a child like that, and she supposed that in a way, he was.  _A child of this monstrosity of a keep, a child of Rendon Howe and a child that had just lost his father._  Kya hadn't known her own parents, but she imagined that was a deep pain indeed. Quietly, she pulled the blanket up over him and he burrowed his head down into the pillow. She wondered if he'd even been fully aware since he'd come to, bleary and confused. Shaking her head yet again, she turned away from him and closed the door between the bedroom and the office. She sat down hard in her chair and leaned forward, hiding her face in the palms of her hands.

This was an emotion she often kept in short supply, but here it was anyway. Of all the things she expected to feel today, and to feel for a child of that son of a bitch Rendon Howe, was this.

_Compassion._

* * *

Hours passed and by Andraste, Kya needed to sleep. But she knew how she'd felt that first day of her joining. Although she was apparently an anomaly, and had kept herself together, she remembered vividly how hard she was shaken. And shaken badly. If it hadn't been for Alistair's steady presence, she was convinced that she would have fallen apart. She was also fairly certain that the battle at Ostagar was a big part of the reason she fell in love with him.

And she did; love him, that was, which was odd in itself, considering everything that had happened. She didn't want him, not anymore. But she sincerely wanted him to be happy, in a convoluted sort of way. It was somewhat comforting to know that she had the capability of feeling that way.

She only hoped someday, that she could feel that way about Loghain too. Instead of this hideous burning behind her ribs that felt like she couldn't get enough air when she thought about him

Kya wondered what would happen when he showed up to say his final goodbyes. She knew he would; he'd promised after all. And despite all the things that Loghain was, she knew he wasn't one to make promises he didn't intend to keep. Well, except that one, about looking after Cailan. But Maker knows he tried.

She looked down at the manifest Varel had left for her to review. The letters and numbers were all running together. She rubbed her temples and rested her elbow on the desk again. She really, really wanted to sleep. But she'd made a promise to herself.

She'd forced another man into becoming a Grey Warden against his will. She wasn't about to wander off to sleep and leave him alone. She knew eventually the nightmares would wake him. And this time, he'd be coherent enough to have questions. Lots of questions, she expected. She herself had learned what it meant to be a Grey Warden so slowly, it had drawn out the pain almost unbearably. She was going to make sodding sure that Nathaniel didn't have to face that. Best she just tell him everything. At least everything she knew, which wasn't nearly as much as she would have liked. But it would have to do.

Despite her best intentions, her eyes slid closed and she dozed a little. The little fire crackling in the hearth was soothing and it was more than her overworked mind could handle. Unnoticed, the candle on the corner on the desk sputtered and burned out, plunging the little improvised office into a weird orange red glow, lit only by the embers of the fire.

That was when the door between the office and the bedroom swung open with a slow creak. It startled Kya awake, her arms flailing out, knocking a stack of parchment to the floor. She looked up to see Nathaniel's silhouette as he took a few steps into the room. His bare feet slapped against the stones.

"Are you going to answer my questions now?" he asked quietly.

"Which ones?" Kya asked, stretching her neck and leaning back in her chair.

"All of them," he said with sharp finality.

Kya dredged up a half smile. "I'll do my best."


	4. Crackle of Gold

Nathaniel was almost tempted to smile at the papers flying across the room as Kya knocked them to the floor. He swallowed the urge. The last thing he wanted to do was give her the impression that any of this was okay. Because it wasn't; as if the murder of his father really hadn't been enough reason to hate her already.

"So what do you want to know?" she asked, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms across her chest.

"How about we start with what in the Black City just happened," Nathaniel replied, propping himself against the door frame.

Kya frowned. "What did you see?"

"Darkspawn, and some hideous bloated  _thing_  with tentacles," he admitted.

"Ah," she sighed. "A broodmother of all things." She shook her head. "Be glad the Blight is over. Or, well, maybe not. The archdemon was certainly louder, but I can't entirely say that it was  _worse_  than a broodmother."

"A what?" Nathaniel looked exasperated.

"Darkspawn do have mothers," she explained. "And that was it."

He closed his eyes for a moment. "Is this going to happen whenever I sleep?"

"No," Kya mumbled. "Well, at least not once you learn to block them out. Alistair . . . ," She cleared her throat. " _King_  Theirin," she corrected herself, "he told me once that some Wardens have trouble sleeping for the rest of their lives. But I haven't had much trouble, at least not since I put a sword through the archdemon's skull."

Nathaniel watched her carefully as she spoke. With each word her pale skin seemed to blanch just a little bit more until it looked like she had no blood at all. Her eyes glittered in the faint light from the fire.

"I take it the nightmares are the least of my worries," he said, "Judging by your expression."

Kya nodded. "Unfortunately, yes, probably the least disturbing thing I have to tell you."

"This just keeps getting better," he sighed.

"Slightly better than being dead, all things considered," she countered.

Nathaniel raised an eyebrow dubiously, but didn't reply. Kya stood and walked around the desk until the firelight was behind her, casting her face in shadow. She leaned back against the wood, grabbing the quill from the surface and rolling it between her fingers.

"I might as well just tell you what I know," she said. "And it's not the whole story, I'm sure. What I know is just from my experience, and what . . . Alistair told me." He noticed she again dropped his royal title, but didn't comment. "Neither of us really knew the entirety of what it meant to be a Grey Warden; and I still don't. Not even now. All the senior Wardens that should have been there to teach us were dead."

"Ostagar," he said finally. "I heard about that."

Ignoring the subject, she continued. "There are really two important things you need to know. The first is that the Taint in your blood now allows you to sense the darkspawn. Unfortunately, it means they can sense you too."

"Sense?" he asked. He pursed his lips. "As in?"

"As in you will feel them," she said. "I don't know any good way to describe it. You have to experience it. But when you do, you'll understand."

"And the second dire bit of news?"

She swallowed hard enough that he could hear it. She turned away from him and walked to the fire, putting her hands out and rubbing them together. He saw her shoulders rise with a silent breath. Gracefully, she sunk down on to the rug in front of the hearth, crossing her legs in front of her. Kya looked up at him over her shoulder.

"You might want to sit down for this," she said.

Nathaniel shook his head. "I'll stand, thanks," he replied without an ounce of actual gratitude.

"Whatever you want," she said. "But I'll tell you, I was glad to be sitting when I found out." She looked up at him expectantly, as if he would move. But stubborn to the core, Nathaniel made it a point to stay as still as a stone. She shook her head again.

"You have thirty years to live," she blurted out. "Give or take." She cringed a bit at the words, but it didn't entirely seem because of the message itself. Nathaniel prided himself on keeping his blank expression, despite the fact that his heart was now sitting somewhere near the soles of his feet.

"Is that so?" he replied emotionlessly.

"It is," she said. "The taint is a poison. Eventually, your body won't be able to fight it anymore. And you'll have two choices. Do as most Grey Wardens do and go to the Deep Roads to die in battle, or go mad and become . . . well, you don't want to know."

He took a few steps forward. "Maybe not, but I deserve to know."

"I suppose you do," Kya replied. She leaned back on her hands and looked up at him. "Most people - humans, elves, dwarves, doesn't matter – can't handle the Taint. But unlike the Joining, where it is so concentrated that you die immediately, if you are tainted in another way, a wound in battle or the like, you become . . .  _infected_. Eventually the Taint will turn you into a ghoul; a mad thing as much darkspawn as human, incapable of coherent thought and only obsessed with killing. And, of course, finding another old god.  _That's_  what happens to Grey Wardens that can't face their Calling. That's what they call it when your time comes. If you can't face it, the other Wardens will have to kill you, to protect themselves and everyone else from what you will become."

And then he did exactly as she asked. He took a few steps and sat down hard beside her on the floor, his legs half bent. He folded his arms across his knees and rested his forehead on his arms. Nathaniel closed his eyes for a moment, trying to absorb everything she'd just told him. This was just an execution that would take longer. Of course, he'd never expected to live to be an old man, but the idea of time being so finite made his mortality seem like a huge, uncontrollable thing.

"I know what you're thinking," she said quietly. He didn't bother to look up. "But it isn't true. I didn't do this to punish you."

He looked up at that and met her eyes. She was staring at him intently.

"No?" he asked. "I can't imagine what else it could be."

"It's simple," she said. "I need help. I know you can't feel it yet, but I can. Something is  _wrong_. The darkspawn should be fleeing back underground and they aren't. They're regrouping. And darkspawn don't . . . think . . . on their own. It takes something to lead them. And I have no idea what it is." She swallowed again. "I need Wardens strong enough to help me fight whatever this is. And it took four Grey Wardens to capture you."

"So if I'd surrendered, instead of fighting back?"

"Then I'd have let you go," she admitted. "I'm sorry, but I did what I had to. The Senior Warden at Weisshaupt already reassigned Loghain . . . I can't do this alone."

"Aren't there any others at all left?" he asked.

"Just Oghren, who's an excellent warrior when he can be bothered to sober up and . . . an old friend I suppose, Anders, an apostate mage. And of course there is the King of Ferelden, but he's turned his back on us," she explained. "I need your help."

Nathaniel hummed. "I guess you have it, whether I like it or not then." And it was true, as much as what she said had the ring of truth about it.

She gave him a sad smile. "On the bright side," she said. "The rumors about Grey Warden stamina are true."

"Wait, do you mean?" Nathaniel raised an eyebrow at her. "Is that so?"

She laughed. "Very."

* * *

There was no more sleep to be had that night for him. Kya had tried to insist that he take her bed and sleep more, but it was the last thing he had any desire for. Instead, he took in her weary face and the purple rings under her eyes and left her to rest, disappearing like a shadow up on to the battlements.

The stones were stained with darkspawn blood from the earlier battles. The bodies had been cleared away, but the stench of the Taint and burnt hair was thick in the still air. The air was cool, but the stones were warm enough still from the heat they'd soaked up during the day for the smell to linger. Nathaniel walked silently, running his hands along the scarred and worn walls. It had been so long since he'd been home . . . but was this really his home now, or just a prison of another sort?

When his father sent him to squire in the Free Marches, he'd been so eager to prove himself, until he realized why he'd been sent away. He was the eldest, and rightfully, the heir to the arling. But unlike his younger brother, Thomas, he often clashed with his father, even as a boy. Nathaniel had his own mind, and wasn't afraid to use it. As much as he loved his brother, he knew his weaknesses. When Thomas had come to visit him once, it was clear that their father was grooming him to be his heir, not Nathaniel.

It wasn't something he was particularly distressed by, except on principle. Thomas was weak and a drunkard, hiding from any real responsibility in the bottom of a bottle. Or between the legs of any passably attractive woman who was willing and on occasion some who were less than enthusiastically so. But Thomas didn't care and he was so saturated with the egotistical superiority of a nobleman that he thought it was his right to do as he pleased.

The apple had not fallen far from the tree in his case.

Nathaniel knew who they were, Thomas and his father. He knew the machinations of noble intrigue and he knew well to spot a lie when he saw one. Kya hadn't lied to him. Not even once, despite how hard he'd been trying to find one. She hadn't told him everything, he knew that. There was more to this story than she was sharing. But what she had shared was absolute, crystalline truth, right down to needing his help.

He was not entirely sure he wanted to give it, but he knew he would.

Amaranthine was his home, even if the Vigil wasn't anymore. He wasn't going to stand by while the darkspawn swarmed across the countryside like locusts, destroying everything in their path. Not while he still drew breath.

"Howe," a voice said from the shadows. Nathaniel spun around, shocked that someone had managed to sneak up on him. A man stepped forward, in robes with disheveled blonde hair hanging loose around his face. Nathaniel recognized the robes immediately as mage robes. This must be the apostate, Anders that Kya had mentioned.

"So," Anders said, folding his arms across his chest. "You survived the joining."

Nathaniel mimicked his stance. "Lucky me, or lucky you as the case may be," he replied.

"I hope so," Anders said, taking a step forward. He frowned and dropped his hands, and Nathaniel saw a little flick of flame dance between the mage's fingertips. "Because . . . look, I'm not the protective type. But Kya is my friend; I've known her since I was ten years old. And I know why you came here. Rumors spread through the Vigil like fire it seems."

There was another little crackle of gold between his fingers. Nathaniel eyes were drawn to it, watching as the fire moved over Anders's skin without burning him.

The mage spoke again. "If you try to hurt her, I will kill you."

"Oh really?" Nathaniel drawled. "I'm sure there would be a waiting list. Besides, didn't she best Loghain Mac Tir? I doubt I'm much of a threat to her."

"In a fight? I'm sure you're right," Anders replied. "You wouldn't stand a chance. But an assassin doesn't wait to make sure his target can fight back."

Nathaniel frowned. "What kind of a man do you think I am?"

"I don't know," Anders said quickly. "You tell me."

 


	5. Entanglement

Kya was convinced that the Vigil was alive, and it hated her. Hated her even more than Nathaniel seemed to and that was certainly a shock. Of course, it was hard to gauge how he felt about anything. Since his Joining he'd been quiet and withdrawn. Then again, she wasn't sure if that was just how he was; some men were known for that. She knew that better than anyone.

Oghren and Anders prodded at him mercilessly, trying to get some reaction out of him. Oghren tried to be indecent; Anders attempted humor. Neither had much of a reaction except muted sarcasm. Nathaniel's demeanor seemed so familiar it made Kya feel strange. So much of his personality mirrored Loghain's. Perhaps not as he was when they met, nor as he was when they parted, but somewhere in-between where derision and bitterness lived in equal measures. The only honest emotion she'd seen from him was when they'd had to slay the ghoul that was once his nursemaid and he crouched down over her body. Nathaniel hadn't shed a tear or said a word, but his grief was plain.

It was all really too much. The similarities made it hard not to think about Loghain all the time. If it hadn't been for Anders' constant cajoling and innuendo, Kya was fairly sure she would have gone mad.

Because although she hadn't wanted it, Anders had worked his way into the place in her heart she had reserved only for Jowan. He'd managed it so efficiently that she didn't even realize it had happened until it was too late to do a damn thing about it. Unlike Jowan, Anders had taken the role of an older brother, instead of younger. Although he still was fond of begging Kya's protection, and was far more prone to trouble than she would have liked, there was something oddly protective about the way he handled her.

However, they hadn't even yet been to Amaranthine proper and already Kya had to soothe an angry husband and one very violent father. Anders was a menace. Especially when the women would stand behind the raving man in question and still be giving Anders longing looks.

But nonetheless, it was comforting to know that there was someone she needed to look after. Despite having been named the protector of all Ferelden, having Anders to babysit was exactly what she needed. It was a wonderful distraction from all the other nonesence running through her mind. With this strange darkspawn threat  _and_  Anders, she managed to go entire days without thinking about Loghain. And that was a huge step in the right direction.

But she assumed that it would have been all right to do so. Once Loghain arrived and saw the mess that Amaranthine was in, and felt the darkspawn threat, all this Montsimmard business was going to be forgotten and surely he'd stay with her to help her defeat this threat. Wasn't that the job of a Grey Warden after all, to battle the darkspawn no matter where they appeared? Politics were not supposed to enter the picture. It was the only sensible decision.

For now, it was time to head into the city whether she liked it or not. There were leads to follow up on, and one quickly made promise to keep.

Kya was going to take Nathaniel to see his sister.

He'd been quiet about the whole thing, naturally. Or as natural as she assumed his behavior was. But he was clearly on edge as they neared the city walls.

"They used to display the heads of traitors over that gate. I suppose my father is lucky his didn't end up there," he muttered as they passed into the city. It was the first words he'd spoken to her in days.

Kya looked back at him and frowned. "You know Nathaniel," she replied softly. "He really didn't give me much of a choice in the matter."

"That," he said with sincerity, "I believe." He sighed. "Look, I . . . want to know what really happened, but I need to speak with my sister first."

Kya nodded but kept silent. It wasn't easy either. Before she'd met him, she'd never really felt the need to try to explain her motivations to anyone. Not even Alistair or Loghain, for that matter. But something about the way Nathaniel looked at her made her want to tell him every detail, every scrap of evidence that explained that she did  _not_  murder Rendon Howe, but only killed him because she had to.

It was crazy. The man had been a treacherous, conniving and thoroughly evil snake. Of course, there were those that said the same about Loghain. How could she have seen past that and not seen anything more in Rendon Howe? Was there anything else to see? He had been Nathaniel's father after all; despite his quiet and his stubbornness and his anger, Kya saw something behind his facade. It had to have come from somewhere.

Or maybe she was seeing things that weren't there. She did have a history of that after all.

* * *

It was just before sunset when they finally returned to the Vigil, with new information and new troubles to deal with; A gash in the earth that was belching up darkspawn, something attacking merchants in the Wending Wood, and rumors of a tear in the veil in the Black Marshes. And, an even more silent, but oddly less sullen Nathaniel Howe.

He had been happy to see his sister and had retreated into her house with her as the rest of her motley little party wandered about Amarantine, learning what they could. He'd been smiling uncharacteristically when they returned, and told Kya quite happily about becoming an uncle. It lit up his eyes in a way she hadn't seen before. But when she tried to question him further, he only said that he had to think about it and lapsed into another silence. Even Oghren's incessant pestering failed, and Nathaniel wouldn't even dignify him with a response beyond a glare. Eventually the dwarf gave up and settled on picking at Anders instead, which oddly, was a better deal for them all.

"You don't actually think your jokes are funny, do you?" Anders said with mock annoyance.

Oghren snorted. "Could have sworn that fly was buzzing again."

"Ha!" Anders laughed. He lowered his voice into a ridiculous impersonation of Oghren, "Let me tell you about my life in one word!" He then belched on command, although it was decidedly less robust than what Oghren usually accomplished.

Not to be outdone, Oghren raised his voice into a breathy falsetto. "Oh no! Don't take me back to the tower! I'm far, far too delicate!"

"I'm not only a dwarf, I'm a moron! Listen to me fart!" Anders giggled, his gruff imitation failing in his laughter.

"Oh no, big Templar man!" Oghren said, his eyes wide and holding his meaty hands out in front of him. "What are you going to do with that sword?"

Anders looked repulsed. "Eww," he muttered, grimacing.

Oghren laughed uproariously. "Don't play with fire unless you want to get burned, son."

It made Kya laugh anyway.

Once they'd made it through the gates, Varel ambushed them, dragging Kya off to deal with yet another issue. She appreciated that he wanted her input, but after an hour she'd had enough. The last light of the sun was fading when she finally escaped from him. She considered heading into her office, but she knew she wouldn't be able to resist the mounds of paperwork waiting for her. Instead, she quickly changed out of her armor and slipped on her oldest robes. They still smelled a bit like Kinloch, despite how long it had been. She wondered if that smell would ever fade.

She wandered up onto the battlements, hoping for some quiet and instead she found Nathaniel. He was still in his leather armor, sitting on the curtain wall with his legs dangling over the edge. She cleared her throat, trying not to startle him from his perch down onto the ground.

He looked back at her over his shoulder. "If you're hoping I'm going to jump, you are going to be sadly disappointed."

Kya couldn't help but smile. "If I wanted you dead," she said, trying to temper her sarcasm with the tone of her voice. "There are easier ways than driving you to suicide."

"Hm, I suppose that's true," he said. "So what are you doing up here then?"

"The same thing you were, I'd guess," she said. She leaned her back against the wall. "But you got here first."

Nathaniel effortlessly swung his legs around and hopped down off the wall in one fluid move. "I'll let you have at it then," he said as he turned and started away.

"Don't leave on my account," she said, stopping him. "Unless you think you'd like to yell at me again. I'm really not up for it."

"No," he admitted, turning back around slowly. "Not today."

"Good to know," she replied. She frowned at him a little. "What were you thinking about?"

He gave her a weary smile. "I'll give you three guesses, and the second two don't count."

"So what did she tell you?" Kya asked, not sure he'd be willing to tell her. But she asked anyway.

"The same thing everyone else did," he said. "With one difference. I know Delilah wouldn't lie to me."

"I won't either Nathaniel," Kya replied. "It's not my way."

"Apparently," he sighed. "And please stop calling me Nathaniel."

Kya raised an eyebrow at him. "Would prefer 'hey you'?" she smirked.

"Very funny, I'm sure," he said. "But I actually prefer Nate. Otherwise, you sound like you're scolding me. I can't remember that last time anyone regularly used my full name in any other way."

"I'll have to keep that in mind . . . Nate," she replied.

"Better," he said, with almost a smile. But it crumpled quickly. "I need to ask you something."

"Whatever you want," she said.

"When you . . . killed my father," he started. Kya realized it was the first time he had not used the word  _murder_  in reference to that act. "I want to know . . . whatever people say about him, he was still my father. And I just want to know if he . . . if he suffered."

Kya swallowed hard. Taking a deep breath, she replied, "Not any more than he had to," she said honestly. "Although he did manage to speak before he died, so I know it wasn't quite the merciful end I'm sure you were hoping for."

"What did he say?" Nate asked hesitantly.

"He cursed at me," she admitted. "And said that he  _deserved more_. He resisted until the end." She sighed. "Because if he had yielded, he might still be alive."

"You would have let him live? After what he did?" Nate looked incredulous.

"I let Loghain live, didn't I?" she said. "I don't kill unnecessarily. I only kill when I have to."

He looked some combination of puzzled and shocked. "It's not really the same though, is it?" he asked. "The few soldiers that survived from when you were last here. . . ." His voice trailed off and he couldn't seem to look at her. "They talk, even to me."

"I . . . ," Kya hesitated. "Ah, well, yes. But it's not as if I knew such a thing was going to happen when I spared his life at the Landsmeet. The man had been trying to kill me for a year. I wasn't expecting an  _entanglement_."

He tucked a lock of hair behind his ear. " _Entanglement_  is it?" He sounded droll. "That's a cold word to describe what I was told about."

"Well, I'm hardly the romantic type, if you hadn't noticed," she said, her tone equally dry.

Nate hmphed. "Isn't he a bit old for you?" he asked. "I didn't think you were the 'daddy' type."

Kya's mouth dropped open. "What the sod is that supposed to mean?"

He laughed, but there was no mirth in it. "I have enough 'daddy' issues of my own to recognize one when I see one." He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, still facing her. "I guess I'll see for myself, won't I? I hear he's expected here in a few days."

"Indeed," she said. She wasn't nearly as annoyed as she expected from such a comment. He did have a bit of a point. Kya had once wished Loghain was her father; though it was a strange thought now.

"I have some questions for him as well," he said.

"Good luck," Kya snorted. "He's not exactly the talkative type."

"I know that," Nate replied. At Kya's questioning look, he continued. "What, you didn't think I wouldn't have met him before, did you? I think I was ten. But he is rather hard to forget. I suppose you know that." He looked smug.

"Well, that will be interesting," she said. "But be sure you are willing to hear the answers to your questions before you ask them."

He nodded. "It really couldn't be much worse than what I already know."

"You might be surprised," she said before they both lapsed into silence again. They looked at each other for a while, before Kya finally turned away, looking out toward the west and the last glimmer of orange light in the distance.

"Do you think he'll stay?" Nate asked, breaking the silence and coming to stand next to her.

"I don't know," Kya said. "I never have any idea what Loghain is going to do."

He didn't reply. The quiet felt awkward and she glanced over at him, catching him staring at her intently. He studied her for a moment longer and then shook his head.

"I've never understood it," he said. "Women interested in men twice their age, or three times more likely in this case."

"Well, I don't have an explanation for you," she admitted. "I just did what felt right."

"Is that how you normally do things?" he asked.

"Usually," Kya replied. She looked back out at the sky. "It's worked so far."


	6. Whatever This Is

It was always these lulls in the action that made Nate feel crazy. When there were darkspawn to kill, crazy elven women to chase down or any other number of maddening things to keep him occupied, he was fine. But once the adrenalin faded, and there was actually time for rest, Nate felt like he was about to fall apart.

This was one of those times.

They chased off the Dalish sorceress back into whatever hole she'd crawled out of, but there wasn't enough time to make it out of the woods before nightfall. Although it was still a few hours before sunset, they'd found a safe, defensible location for a camp and Kya insisted they stop for food and rest. If it had been his choice, they would have pressed on until they couldn't manage to walk anymore. Then when it was his turn to sleep, exhaustion would have blurred the dreams.

He only wished he was dreaming about darkspawn. And he did, on occasion. But the dreams that came from inside his own mind were far worse. The guilt was eating him alive. Kya could tell him all she wanted that it wasn't  _his_  fault that his father had nearly destroyed Ferelden in his madness, but Nate still didn't believe her.

He'd looked up to his father like some sort of a god for most of his life, blind to his ambition and his cruelty. But Delilah had forced him to open his eyes and see Rendon Howe without the tint of a son's love for his father. And what he saw with his new eyes made him ill. He would have killed Kya and every last Warden in the Vigil in his blindness. He would have been damned forever.

He wanted Kya to forgive him, but she didn't think he'd done anything wrong. Or so she told him. She said that several of her friends had at one point wanted her dead; the Antivan Crow and Loghain. She clearly didn't hate Loghain, she'd taken him to her bed.

 _The lucky bastard._ Nate Howe might have been conflicted and feeling guilty, but he wasn't dead; not yet anyway.

Instead of inflicting his poor company on the others, Nate stalked off to the nearby stream. When he was a child he loved to find some water to cast a line into, to watch the peaceful water buoy his cork around and watch for the little twitch that signaled a fish had taken the bait. He was hoping that it would help today. But it wasn't helping, not really. Then again, he had no idea what else to do with himself and this was as good an idea as any.

"What are you doing?" Kya's voice came from behind him. He was still enough on alert that he managed not to startle.

"Fishing," he replied. Nice, short reply; one word and a gruff enough tone that hopefully she'd be annoyed and leave him be.

"Oh?" she asked. "How do you do that?"

Nate turned around and looked at her incredulously. "How do I fish? Don't tell me you don't know how."

She rolled her eyes. "Maker's breath, how many times do I have to remind people," she sighed. She pointed to herself. "Mage, tower. You know, no windows and barred doors? They didn't exactly let us out for day trips."

"Isn't the tower on an island in Lake Calenhad?" Nate asked. "You're going to tell me that they never once let you wander along the shore?"

"No," Kya shook her head. "Not without a good reason. I guess I've  _seen_  people fishing before. They would let us out for air sometimes, and there were a few Templars that liked to do it. But it's not as if they were friendly enough to show me how."

"Well," Nate replied. "I'll show you then." He had no idea what possessed him to offer. Only moments ago, he'd wanted nothing more than to be left alone. But, just like a battle, this might offer some distraction to his dark thoughts.  _Any port in a storm._

Kya sidled up alongside him and he realized she wasn't in her armor. It seemed that once they stopped, she couldn't change out of it fast enough. It made him wonder what sort of state she'd been in the night she conscripted him to have still been wearing it.

"I'll warn you," she said. "I'll probably be bad at this."

Nate chuckled. "I don't doubt it." He handed her the length of branch he'd found and tied his line to. She took it gingerly, holding it nearly horizontal. He shook his head, putting his hand over hers and tilting the pole up. "No, like this. Or the fish will get away." He turned his head back towards the water, still helping her support the pole. "Now, just wait and watch the cork. If there is a fish, it will just bob up and down a little."

"Then what?" she said, smirking. "Should hit them with lightning or something?"

"That might be a bit of overkill," he snickered. "How about you just tell me and I'll show you how to set the hook and land the fish."

She looked back over at him and grinned. For a moment her eyes flicked down to where his hand was still over hers. He dropped his hand abruptly and took a step back. He couldn't read the flicker of expression on her face before she quickly turned back to watch the water. Probably mild annoyance and humoring him. He snorted.

"What?" she asked, looking back at him.

He shook his head. "Never mind me," he said. "I . . . um just . . . ." At that moment, a fish chose to take the bait, and Nate caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. "Look," he said pointing at the bobbing cork, thrilled to be saved by good timing.

Kya looked anxious, "And now I?" Nate couldn't help but smile. He'd seen her fight and command. She was a natural at both but looked overwhelmed by the little movements of the cork on the water. He shook his head again, putting his hand over hers again to steady her. She still seemed unsure, so he moved his arm around her so both his hands were over hers where they gripped the branch, guiding her movements.

"Here," he said. "Like this."

With a good deal of laughter, they managed to lift the little trout half out of the water before it wriggled its way off the hook, splashing back into the stream. Little droplets of water flew through the air, splattering them both. Kya laughed and turned her head back to look at him.

"See, this is why they don't let mages go fishing," she said. "They all . . . ." The tempo of her words slowed abruptly. Her face was close enough to his that he could feel her breath on his skin. The reasonable part of Nate's brain was screaming at him to let go but he couldn't seem to will himself to move. "They all . . . get away," Kya managed to finish. She swallowed and her breathing seemed labored.

"It just . . . ," Nate stuttered. "Takes practice."

And Maker damn him, but her hair smelled like wildflowers and Maker damn him again if he wasn't still a man. He hadn't spent his years in the Free Marches chasing skirts, but not because he was chaste and decent. Mostly because he was entirely too particular and homesick for Ferelden women. And finally, after what had been entirely too long without touching a woman, his ridiculousness had him all bothered over a woman he shouldn't even want and clearly couldn't have.

As if the fact that she was his commander wasn't enough, there was Loghain Mac Tir to think about. Nate had a feeling he could hardly compare to the Hero of River Dane.

But Kya made no move to pull away, just stared at him. She bit her lip.

"What in the sod are you two doing?" Oghren's booming voice interrupted their ogling. Nate stumbled back and without his support, the branch fell out of Kya's hands on to the ground. Kya was blushing – of all things.

"Nate was . . . ," she started and cleared her throat. "Teaching me how to fish."

Oghren gave them a sidelong look. "So that's what they call it these days?" he sniggered. "I'll have to remember that one." Then he gave them both a leering wink and lumbered off again. Nate could hear him laughing to Anders and heard some equally disgusting comment about a velvet helmet. Nate closed his eyes, mortified.

He opened them again to hear Kya chuckling. "We should go back before Oghren has Anders in a tizzy," she said.

"Yes," Nate replied, reminded of Anders' not so subtle warnings. "Sound plan."

And good little soldier that he was, Nate followed Kya back to their makeshift camp trying very hard to remind himself not to watch the swaying of her hips and failing rather miserably.

The look Anders gave him was wary, but not threatening, when he saw the vaguely amused expression in Kya's eyes. Anders quickly grabbed her and laid his head in her lap, acting coy. Kya indulged him; she always did. Nate wondered exactly how Anders got away with it.

They managed to get through dinner without bickering at each other which was a pleasant change of pace, but Kya shot him a few strange looks. Nate had the urge to flee, but kept his head. If he could face darkspawn, he could deal with  _this,_ whatever this was. He hoped.

Eventually the sun set and Anders drifted off to sleep still pillowed in Kya's lap. She extracted herself out from underneath him, draping a blanket across the mage's narrow shoulders and creeping around the fire to sit closer to Nate. Oghren too fell asleep, snoring intermittently and occasionally laughing. The dwarf was odd, to say the least.

Even though she was right next to him, he kept his eyes focused on the dancing flames of the fire. Trying to think of something to do with his hands, he reached back and untied the paired braids behind his head and started to unweave the strands of hair. He snuck a glance over at Kya and found her staring at him with a strange, wistful look on her face. He stopped half way through the braid, dropping his hands back into his lap.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, looking back at the fire.

"For what?" Kya asked. At first he didn't reply and he felt the touch of her fingers against his shoulder. "What are you sorry for?"

Nate sighed. "For a lot of things; for breaking into the Vigil, for wanting to kill you, for being completely wrong about everything," he paused. "For what happened at the creek."

He heard her take a deep breath. "Well," she said softly. "You don't need to apologize. Not for any of those things."

Nate still couldn't look at her. He felt the fool for all of it, whether she thought any of it merited an apology or not. He also felt . . . a lot more than he should have about her in general. Whatever compassion he could trick himself into thinking she might have felt for him, she'd told him bluntly that his life was spared for practical purposes. And she was right to have done it for that reason. Any other reason for sparing him was irrational; and Kya Amell didn't seem the irrational sort.

He expected the uncomfortable silence. What he didn't expect was feeling her fingers in his hair, finishing what he'd started. Swiftly, her fingers untangled his braid. Once it was done, she made a small sound, halfway between a chuckle and a sob. Nate looked up at her. She was staring at him again, this time her eyes glittering wetly in the flickering light.

"What is it?" he asked.

She gave him a sad smile. "It was just familiar, that's all," she said without much of an explanation. She cocked her head at him. "You should take the other braid out too," she continued. "It looks nice."

"Gets in my eyes," he said, but his sharp tone was forced.

"I don't think that's a serious problem at the moment, do you?" she said.

"I suppose not," he replied. He took up the other braid obediently and unraveled it. He raked his hands through his hair, tucking the loose strands behind his ears. "Better?"

"Yes," she smiled, but still cheerless. "Very nice."

Nate shook his head at her. "I really don't need to be humored."

"What are you talking about?" she asked. She did sound genuinely confused, which was clearly nonsense. She was there with him earlier, seeing his suddenly inability to speak when he found her inadvertently in his arms. He might be subtle with his fighting skills, but other forms of subtly escaped him entirely. His siblings had tormented him about it most of his life until he'd learned that saying less was the more effective course of action.

He shook his head again. "Nothing."

"Andraste's white arse," she muttered. "Fine, be like that. Maker, you're as bad as Loghain."

"Am I?" he asked, looking at her through his hair that had fallen back in front of his eyes again.

"Yes," she sighed. "If I didn't know better I'd think he was your father, not Rendon."

Nate raised an eyebrow at her. "I'm not quite sure how to take that."

"Well," she said, frowning now. "I guess it's a backwards sort of compliment."

"Hm," he said quietly. "I suppose I can live with that."

 


	7. Slippery Truth

They'd fallen into a comfortable sort of half silence, occasionally pointing out something interesting in their path, making small comments about the finally decent weather, and all sorts of other banal pleasantries. It was a relaxing and slow walk from the Wending Wood back to the Vigil. With the fine weather and the warm breeze Kya couldn't help but be in a good mood. Specifically a far better mood than she'd been in for some time. They were nearly home, although it seemed odd to call it that still. The walls of the Vigil loomed up ahead in a distinctively not home-like way.

Oghren and Anders led the way, bickering and swapping stories about their collective prowess with the fairer sex, most of which Kya assumed was hyperbole. She shot Nate a look, rolling her eyes at a particularly graphic comment of Oghren's. Nate grinned at her and she bumped into him with her shoulder. They'd been doing that a lot; walking far too close together and touching  _by accident_  of course, because surely she wasn't doing  _this._  Whatever Loghain had suggested before she left Denerim, it was all madness and it didn't matter now. Once he arrived, surely he'd stay now. But then again, he'd given his word that he would return with the Wardens to Montsimmard, and Loghain wasn't one to go back on his word.

" _And if - when this old man barges in and kisses you, if there's an irritated young man looking on; then all the better."_

Loghain's words played back through Kya's head. Kya looked back over at Nate, catching him looking again. She felt a sudden welling of guilt and looked away. She wasn't entirely sure where the guilt was best placed either, which somehow made it worse. Was it guilt over her wandering eyes, the eyes that should have been content to wait for Loghain? Or was it instead for reveling in and encouraging Nate, just to blunt the pain of her loneliness? Was that even what this was?

Not to mention the fact that the hard packed dirt of the road had turned to the cobblestone of the entrance to the keep. Kya's skin crawled. Since the darkspawn attack, the Vigil had seemed like a foreign place. It was dark and foreboding and she wanted nothing more than for this madness to be over with. Once it was, she intended to resign as Commander and make the long trek to Weisshaupt. _Or Montsimmard._

"Hey," Nate said, putting his hand on her shoulder. "You look like a rain cloud is about to open up over your head." He dropped his hand quickly, but the warmth remained. Kya looked up at him, blinking.

"What? I . . . oh," she managed. "I was just thinking."  _Which hardly began to cover it._

Nate frowned. "Well, don't do that then," he replied.

"I'll do my best," she snickered. He had a knack for making her laugh, even when he didn't intend to. "If only to make  _you_  happy, of course."

"Isn't that why you do everything?" he said, giving her a crooked grin.

"What other reason could I possibly have?" she laughed, veering into him again as they walked, intentionally hard. He stumbled a bit.

"No need for violence," he said snidely.

"Of course there is," she said. "You like it."

Nate laughed, his arm almost coming up around her when Anders turned around and gave them an unreadable look. He slowed his pace and inserted himself between them, slinging his own arm around Kya's waist.

"My dear," Anders said, shooting a glance of mock annoyance at Nate. "Is this brute bothering you?" Kya looked amused, shaking her head.

"No Anders," she sighed. "He's not."

Anders pursed his lips and then grinned. "Well, why not?"

"Excuse me?" Nate asked. He looked confused.

"Well, I remember a girl from the Tower," Anders said, putting his other arm around Nate's shoulders. "Who always had her nose in a book and didn't make enough time for hiding in broom closets. We should try to correct that."

"Anders!" Kya said, pulling away from him. "Shut up."

He just laughed and slapped Nate's arm. "See what I mean?"

Kya shook her head in frustration. "I'm not talking to either of you." She was blushing and trying very hard not to make a complete ass of herself. There had been perks to traveling with people who didn't know who she was as a girl. The year before she'd been able to put on a brave, strong face and ignore her past. But Anders brought that all crashing down. They hadn't known each other well, even he'd admit to that, but nonetheless, he  _knew_  Kya Amell. He knew her as the little spitfire with the big mouth, the one who knew more about books than people and the one who had a perpetual shadow named Jowan.

Sneering at Anders one last time, she trotted up alongside Oghren. He gave her a leering, knowing look, but said nothing. He clearly knew she wanted to listen to what Anders would say now. And considering Anders had a knack for failing to be quiet, they both knew they'd hear whatever he said.

"I have decided something, Ser Howe," Anders said in his delusional whisper.

"What's that,  _Ser Mage_?" Nate replied acerbically.

"I think I can trust that you aren't going to try to kill our Commander," Anders said. His tone was dry.

"How nice that I have your approval," Nate said. His voice was irritated, but only mildly so.

"Yes, it is," Anders continued. "This way I don't have to set your smallclothes on fire."

Nate snorted. "That's a relief."

"It should be," Anders replied. "I think I might have been wrong about you. You might even have a sense of humor  _and_  you clearly have excellent taste in women."

Kya could almost hear Nate blushing. Anders laughed and it was punctuated by the distinct sound of a hand slapping against leather.

"Ouch," Anders whimpered.

Nate chuckled. "Next time you want to do something appropriately friendly and masculine," he said. "Watch out for the armor. They don't call it studded leather for nothing."

Kya looked at the two of them over her shoulder. Anders was cradling his hand and Nate looked amused but still faintly flushed.

"Boys," she sighed, turning back to Oghren.

"What, you're not used to it by now?" he grunted. "You want me to fart or something to complete the mood?"

"Maker's breath, no!" Kya laughed. "I'd like to make it back to the Vigil alive, and your gas is more deadly than darkspawn."

Oghren laughed uproariously. "Like I told your little magey brother or boyfriend or whatever that squirrely mess is; don't play with fire, you get burned."

His laughter echoed off the walls of the keep as they passed through the gate. There was a strange twitter of nervous energy among the soldiers and the guards. But not the worried tension that had been so prevalent lately. It was something altogether different. Kya slowed her pace and Oghren followed suit until the four of them were walking nearly shoulder to the shoulder. Kya slipped in between Anders and Nate; Anders took her hand and squeezed it quickly before letting it go. Nate gave her a strange look.

They felt it too, whatever it was.

Kya swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. She wasn't going to let some unusual  _feeling_  get to her. She'd had enough of weirdness to make her immune to it and . . . .

"There you are," a voice like a familiar ghost tore every thought from Kya's head.

Her eyes darted to the source of the sound. Leaning against the portcullis gate to the main of the keep, a tall figure stood in gleaming Chevalier armor modified to fit a Ferelden's taste. Thick dark hair framing an angular face; Ankles crossed, arms folded across his chest and that wary, sardonic, infamous smirk on his face.

_Loghain._

Kya blinked. But he was still there. It wasn't her sleep addled brain finally getting the best of her; Loghain was actually standing there, looking faintly amused in the way that only he could.

Kya dredged up her voice. "Loghain?"

He smiled. "You were expecting someone else?" He uncrossed his arms and turned his palms towards her. An unassuming gesture to someone who didn't know him as she did, but for Loghain, it was as forward as running towards her with his arms spread. As mad as it was, and although she knew he'd be mortified, Kya sprinted forward and practically tackled him. His armor clinked against the stone, but unexpectedly his arms came up around her. She felt his breath against her cheek.

"Kya," he whispered, low enough so she almost couldn't hear him. "Love."

"I thought you'd never get here," she murmured with her lips against the rough stubble on his jaw and to the Black City with propriety.

"I promised," he replied. He pulled away just enough to meet her eyes. "And here I am." He smirked again and in full view of . . . everyone, he kissed her.

Kya had once made a joke about kissing her in public. She never thought it would actually happen. But now that it had, she knew she had been fooling herself. She wanted so much to have him at her side that she had let herself ignore reality. Loghain had promised her; and he'd promised to report to Montsimmard. There was a part of her that knew too, that despite how he felt about her and how he felt about Orlais, he  _wanted_  to go. He'd finally be free of the shackles Ferelden had placed upon him. If he stayed, every tree, every sunset would be an unmerciful reminder of his past. He'd moved beyond it, for now. But it was with him in every breath, just as much as her past was with her.

Kya would always be, in some part, the little girl reading tales of the Hero of River Dane with Jowan in the corner of the library at Kinloch. Just so, Loghain would always  _be_  the Hero of River Dane. There was no escaping it.

His lips tasted of brutal finality. She pulled away and met his eyes, seeing all her fears reflected there. He wasn't staying. She didn't even need to ask, though she knew she would once there was no one else around to hear. He broke the silence first. Loghain's eyes flicked up over her shoulder and the glimmer of a smile passed across his face.

"Nathaniel Howe," he said quietly, releasing his arms from Kya's shoulders. "There was talk that you'd become a Warden, but I wasn't entirely sure I believed it."

Nate frowned hard. "Believe it . . . Your Grace."

"Just Loghain," he corrected. "I am no longer a Teyrn; you do know how this Grey Warden  _thing_  works, I presume?"

"I do," Nate snapped in reply. "But old habits die hard."

Another half smile danced across Loghain's face. "Yes, they do at that." He made a show of looking Nate up and down, crossing his arms across his chest again. "You know, I never understood why your father favored Thomas over you. You always seemed the better man, even as a child."

Nate raised an eyebrow in reply. "I'm surprised you remember me at all."

"Are you?" Loghain said, laced with derision. "I am not so old as that yet." He grinned. "Yet."

"Still, I was just a boy. I would like to think I am not the same as I was then," Nate said, still half scowling. "Because you certainly aren't as I remembered you."

"No? I suppose I'm not," Loghain said simply. "I . . . no, I'm not. Although it matters little at this point. You can remove your glare ser; I won't be staying."

"Oh? I thought . . . ," Nate began but Kya cut him off.

"We can talk about that later," she said, swallowing the lump in her throat that felt suspiciously like her heart. "But this isn't the time or the place for any of this."

Loghain and Nate frowned in unison and a rush of dizziness washed over Kya. There was a similarity about the two of them that she just couldn't shake. It was more than just their dark hair and pale skin. It was even more than their stubborn taciturn natures. A part of her had a sudden imagining that Loghain was much like Nate as a young man, and perhaps if time hadn't made him so bitter as he once was . . . she pushed the thought away. As she said, this was hardly the time, or the place for any of this.

"Let's go," Kya said sharply in her best Warden-Commander voice. Without waiting for their reactions, she spun on her heel and matched into the keep. She hoped to the Maker that they couldn't see her heart pounding through her armor and her faked bravado.

Behind her, over the sounds of her blood rushing through her ears and the clanking of her armor, she could hear Loghain and Nate talking. Short, terse sentences laced with tension. Kya swallowed, listening but trying not to. Somehow, she wished they would instantly hate one another. That would be easier. Of course, why that would be easier, she had no idea. Frankly, she was having a very hard time thinking clearly at all.

"I have questions for you," Nate said tersely.

"I may have answers," Loghain replied. "Though you may dislike them."

Nate snorted. "All I want is the truth."

"The truth is slippery," Loghain sighed. "I can only tell you my version of it."

"I guess that will have to do," Nate said.

Kya stopped and closed her eyes, leaning her hand against the stone wall. She wished they would just be quiet. The intermingling of their two voices was making her crazy. She tried to catch her breath, but it was harder than she expected. Her lungs felt like fire.

"Kya?" she heard Loghain say from a long way off. Hadn't he just been right behind her? She felt his hands on her waist, but she felt oddly disconnected from her body. Slowly, she turned around, panting.

"I . . . ," she managed to squeak out.

"Maker's breath," Loghain sighed. "Are you going to faint?"

Kya closed her eyes again. "I . . . killed an archdemon," she muttered. "I'm not . . . going to faint . . . over  _you_."

He chuckled humorlessly. "I should hope not."

She opened her eyes and caught Nate's gaze over his shoulder. He looked as pale as she assumed she was. He also looked terrified.

Kya forced a laugh. "Don't worry," she said quietly. "I won't faint over  _you_  either."


	8. A Rare Creature

Loghain closed the door behind him.

Kya hadn't fainted, thank the Maker, but came entirely too close for his comfort. He wasn't used to thinking about her weaknesses, although she clearly had them. During his time in Denerim without her, he had spent more than a reasonable amount of time reminiscing about the previous months. But in all of that, he'd managed to forget to remember her weak spots – she thought too much, talked too much, her delirious friendship with Jowan and perhaps more damning than anything, her love for him.

He imagined she'd be so strong it might hurt him. Instead, she was so human it was having the same effect.

Kya also said a few other  _things_ , despite his insistence she rest. He thought at first she was trying to stall him – it was her way and she'd done it countless times before. But not this time. What Kya said chilled him to his core. She said she'd killed a darkspawn that talked.

Too familiar that.

She also said she'd met a creature in the silverite mines in the woods that could only be one thing. The one thing Maric let slip about his trip to the Deep Roads with the Wardens. A magic using, talking darkspawn called the Architect. Maric only spoke of it after a bottle of wine, on a night he'd learned a variety of the secrets Maric had begged him to never mention again in the morning. The bastard child aside, it was this Architect that stood out for the sheer horror of what it stood for.

 _This_  was the thing she was facing. And he...he was just going to walk away and it was tearing him apart. There was no other honorable choice in the matter though he hated it nonetheless. Despite what he might want, what logic might say, there were non-Warden guards sent from Orlais to accompany him. He hadn't mentioned them and they'd kept a low profile since coming to the keep, but he knew they'd  _assert themselves_  if he even considered fighting them.

That wasn't the way Loghain wanted to die. He'd narrowly avoided death on his knees at the Landsmeet; he wasn't about to be slaughtered in front of Kya on his knees again. If he had anything to say about it, he would die as a Grey Warden, battling darkspawn or in the Deep Roads. That was a heroic death. He wasn't so selfless that he didn't desire it.

Somehow, he had to convince himself and Kya that leaving was the sensible thing to do. When every bone in his body was telling him otherwise, it was an uphill battle at best.

How he was going to accomplish that he still had not the faintest idea but it was the least of his concerns at the moment.  _First things first_ , as his father used to say. And first thing was Nathaniel Howe waiting in the main hall and likely pacing a rut into the floor, if Loghain's memory of the boy was still accurate.

Loghain knew he had not a single answer that the boy would like. It still sounded like an excuse to his own ears; so much of the more deviant actions from the war were Rendon's ideas. Occasionally, even Loghain had been shocked by the man's ideas, but he'd let them happen nonetheless. Some were of his own doing certainly – Eamon and Highever in particular. He hadn't intended for Howe's men to  _kill_  the Teyrn and Teyrna, but he had expected it might come to that. He had not intended for the death of women and children, but it had.

That was blood on his own hands and he wouldn't deny it.

But the slavery, the assassins, the torture of nobles? This wasn't Loghain's way. Some of that he hadn't even known about until after he was already a Warden. The twisted schemes with lesser nobles' children locked in the basement of the Arl's estate, the violence and things done to flesh that even magical healing couldn't repair? That turned even the steel of Loghain's stomach.

This was the legacy that Rendon Howe had left for his son.

Loghain had no idea how Nathaniel would ever move beyond such a thing. His own father died a hero and a knight in the service of the true King of Ferelden and it had taken him years to overcome it. Rendon died on his knees.

Grimacing, Loghain made his way into the hall. It was a tall room of shadows and turns. Seemed an odd and unfortunate room for holding court. Even when Rendon had still held the Vigil, he's disliked this place. He may not have been keen on the idea of assassins, even paid from his own coffers, but that didn't mean he didn't concern himself with them. He remembered expecting Orlesian assassins to appear from behind every shadowed pillar.

No assassins here now; even the Crow had returned to Antiva according to Kya. There was only a boy . . .  _a man_  if he was going to be honest, filled with an abundance guilt over things he hadn't even done that it was threatening to drown him. Somehow, Loghain never felt such guilt – even when he'd discovered the depth of Rendon's treachery. Had he known, Rendon's head would have been on the pike at the Denerim gate, ally or not. But he had not known, despite priding himself of knowing such things.

Not guilt, only disappointed in his own lack of insight.

Loghain found Nathaniel leaning against the wall near a bookcase. Nathaniel had picked a particularly and conspicuously well lit spot. He was still as a stone and staring intently at the floor. No pacing for this one. Loghain was less than impressed with his track record of predictions thus far this day. Once, he'd been known for his uncanny ability to predict the actions of his opponents. It was what made him such a successful tactician. But he had been accused of being wrong before and lately he was half and half at best. Apparently he was getting more and more wrong in his old age.

Maric would have been amused.

Shaking the morbid thoughts from his head, he spoke, announcing his presence. "You had questions?" he said bluntly, without introduction. Nathaniel's head snapped up and his eyes glittered.

"Loghain," he said, his voice barely audible. "I do."

"Then ask, but be wary," Loghain replied. "There are answers here that you are bound to dislike."

"If only it was that easy," Nathaniel said. "To  _dislike_ the answers."

Loghain folded his arms across his chest. "I assume you want to know what your father did."

"No," Nathaniel said quickly, shaking his head. "I know what he did. I have no illusions about that. What I want to know is why you let him. I want to know how it happened that the great  _Teyrn of Gwaren,_ " he paused, his voice dripping with venom, "allowed such things to be done in his name."

Loghain frowned and leaned against the pillar beside him with a quiet sigh. This was an answer to dislike to be sure. Considering the final outcome; the death of the Archdemon and the quelling of the Blight, the Theirin line still on the throne and the Orlesians safely behind their borders; he had no regrets. He only wondered if one so young, who had seen so little of death and horror, could truly understand such a thing.

_Kya understood, but what where the chances here?_

"Have you ever fought in war Nathaniel?" Loghain asked.

"Of course not," he replied gruffly. "I've seen my share of battle since becoming the Grey Warden and that is a war of a sort I suppose. But no, there has been no war in my lifetime, except the civil war of your making that I regrettably missed."

" _Regrettably_ ," Loghain echoed. He shook his head. "War is regrettable, no matter what the outcome. But it is sometimes necessary. This is the only answer I have for you. I did what had to be done; I let what had to be done happen in my name. It is what it is."

" _It is what it is?_ " Nathaniel snapped. "Slavery, torture, murder? This is your only defense?"

Loghain snorted. "I don't need to defend myself to you or anyone. What is done is done. Regret and recrimination cannot change the past."

Nathaniel stood bolt upright and took what seemed to be an involuntary step forward. His face was flushed.

"You could have  _stopped_  him!" he spat. "You could have prevented my family from becoming pariahs. You could have had my father removed from power before he destroyed a heritage that stems from Calanhad himself!"

"Ha," Loghain grunted. "What do I care for lineage? I'm the son of a commoner; no noble blood runs in my veins. Does that make me less of a man than you for all your lack of deeds and bluster? You forget who you speak to,  _my Lord_." He gritted his teeth.

"Your deeds make you less of a man," Nathaniel growled. "And I have to pay the price for them."

"I have already paid, tenfold," Loghain replied, his eyes like shards of ice under his drawn brows. "A hundred times, a thousand. I will pay for the rest of my life for every action I have taken. All you have lost is a title and a pile of stones, things that were only yours by the accident of your birth. Now you have a chance to  _earn_  what is yours." He shook his head. His anger faded to a dull ache as swiftly as the light faded beyond the doors.

Loghain knew only one true regret and it wasn't for his actions during the Blight. It wasn't for so many things done in the name of war or victory. Loghain only regretted squandering his life on bitterness and remorse. "Do not waste a life in pursuit of  _what might have been_."

Nathaniel seemed to bite back a retort and instead looked away.

"You are a young man," Loghain replied quietly. "And your life is your own, Grey Warden or no. What you do will be your legacy and the legacy of the Howes. Not what your father did. Just pray that you are up to the task."

Nathaniel sighed, defeated. He looked back at Loghain questioningly. "How can you stand there so calmly? Knowing all that has happened, and all that is happening? How can you stand there knowing that you are going to walk away from everything you fought for?"

"Because I have no other choice," he said. His voice was even, serene. "I can either stand and live, or die on my knees. I have never backed down to anyone, save once. I will not back down from what I must do now, no matter what the consequences."

"You backed down to  _her_ ," Nathaniel said.

The corner of Loghain's mouth quirked up for a moment, but it was more of a sneer than a smile.

"Yes," he said. "I did."

"Why?" Nathaniel asked.

"Because in that too I had no other choice," Loghain replied succinctly. "It is one battle I do not regret losing."

"That's because you love her," Nathaniel said, looking away again.

"No," Loghain said. "Because she is more than that. Her victory over me took a burden away I had forgotten that I carried." He paused. "And perhaps, because she looked at me and saw a man, not a symbol or a hero or a villain. Only a man."

And she had. It was perhaps love that drove her to it since love drove everything Kya did. Despite her cool exterior, Kya was a creature of battling emotions and reason. In the end, intuition won over sense every time.

"Kya Amell is a rare creature," Loghain continued. He frowned as Nathaniel looked back and met his eyes. From the expression they held, clearly, this was realization the boy had already had. But he'd deny it to his grave if his pride had its way. Loghain knew that feeling well enough. "It is not something to be ignored."

"What are you saying?" Nathaniel muttered.

Loghain shook his head. "Don't be a fool."

The boy didn't reply, just stared, his face still flushed with anger and whatever else rushed through his thick head. Loghain could feel the stubborn foolishness rolling off the boy in waves. He swallowed the sad smile that was threatening. Somehow, he expected that this lad wouldn't take well to being humored.

Nathaniel Howe was undoubtedly angry, stubborn and arrogant. He was a very young man and as such was bitter and moody. If Loghain was recalling correctly, he was also intelligent, clever and a thoroughly sensible fellow.

He was perfect for her.

It killed him a little to realize it. Yet at the same time, it brought him a measure of peace he hadn't expected. Naturally, this would be no easy transition; Nathaniel would fight this every step of the way. Likely, so would Kya. She was as a stubborn as a mule, that one. But she was worthy of a good long life with an ally she could trust. With someone who would live long enough to see her to the Deep Roads when her Calling came and would fight at her side to their ends.

Loghain couldn't do that. No amount of will could overcome time. Age crept as swiftly as the dawn, just as the Taint reminded him, thrumming in his veins like a drum. He knew he would not have to suffer the company of the Orlesians for long. That much was clear already.

The best he could hope for was to leave Ferelden in capable hands. And he had done that already. His daughter on the throne and Kya at the head of the Grey Wardens. Together they would share the burden he thought he needed to shoulder on his own for thirty years. And what was more, he could leave Kya also in capable hands, with such a comrade that he could never be.

Nathaniel Howe would do nicely. That was, if he could ever see beyond the boundaries of his own head. Or pull his head out of his arse, as the case might be. Loghain shook his head again. He uncrossed his legs and stood, putting his hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. The lad's eyes snapped back to him and he tensed for a moment.

There was a battle of wills in their exchange but Loghain had stared down better men than this one. After only a moment, Nathaniel slumped, but he had the fortitude to not look away.

" _Don't,_ " Loghain intoned. " _Be a fool._ "


	9. Turning to Go

Kya heard the door open as she sat on the end of the bed, staring down at her folded hands. The outer door the office closed with a soft sound, then the distinctive melody of clanging steel plates as Loghain walked across the room. She heard him pause outside the door to her attached bedchamber. For so long he was still she wasn't entirely sure he was going to come through it at all.

It had been hard enough for both of them to say goodbye the first time, with promises of 'I'll see you again', but there wasn't going to be any such comfort this time. Kya knew it and she knew Loghain did as well, by his hesitation. He so rarely second guessed his decisions; she couldn't even ponder what was going through his head.

The silence seemed to drag on for an eternity. Kya retreated inside her own head; a flood of remembrances washing over her. The look in his eyes in Redcliffe before the battle, the touch of his fingertips atop Fort Drakon, the sound of his voice when he told her he loved her. He might be standing only paces away, just outside the closed door, but she knew that Loghain was already a thousand miles away in his heart.

He  _wanted_  to leave.

Slowly, the door creaked open and he walked in, his armor ringing again. Kya's eyes didn't move; they were riveted to her intertwined fingers. He made no sound at first, standing still as a stone. Then she heard him shift and the sound of the buckles on his armor. One at a time, he removed the plates; she heard him set them gingerly on the chest by the wall. Through the veil of her hair, she stole a glance at him. His back was turned to her as he unfastened his greaves. First the left, then the right. The plates clinked together as he set them on the pile.

Shrugging his shoulders, he let his chainmail undershirt slip down, leaving him in only a rumbled gambeson and padded leggings he wore under his armor. Loghain stood up straight then, squaring his shoulders, still facing the wall. He took a long deep breath as he turned and Kya looked away quickly, back at her hands. She could only see his feet as he took the few halting steps towards her, then sat down beside her on the bed.

Gathering her resolve, Kya lifted her head to find him staring at her with his cool, unsettling eyes. She frowned and swallowed, trying to remember how to smile, but failing at it. She dropped her head again.

Loghain raised his hand and cupped her chin, tilting her face up to look at him. He didn't move to kiss her, only continued to watch. Kya felt dissected under his gaze, like he was looking in to her soul for signs of weakness, for signs of doubt, for signs that she would not be able to keep her promise to him.

" _When I come to see you before I leave, I want to know that my loving you made you stronger, not weak. I want to know that loving me made you less bitter, not more."_

She could see those words in his eyes, as clearly as if he'd said them again. Kya had struggled with her conscience, to keep her promise. If only to please him, to let him go to Orlais, to the Deep Roads and his death in peace, without her sorrow weighing down upon him, she knew she had to fight her own inclinations. She knew she'd helped him let go of pain that he'd carried for so long – what horror would it be for her to give him more guilt to take its place?

It was so much easier when she wasn't looking into his eyes, when there wasn't the warm soft touch of his fingers on her face, to let him go. But a part of her knew that there was no choice here for her. There was only the inevitable.

Loghain shifted his position beside her, reaching out with his other hand to tuck a lock of her hair behind her ear before setting his palm against her cheek. Kya closed her eyes, reveling in the soft leather of his skin, the warmth of his life underneath, the scent of steel no longer hidden underneath a bitter tang of sadness.

He'd let her go already; she knew it somehow. But still, he was here, for one more moment. One more night stolen out of lives of duty and  _no other choice_  and all the other madness she knew her heart would remind her of once he was gone.

Loghain managed to smile faintly, finally leaning in towards her. His lips brushed the corner of her mouth and her cheek, his hands sliding from her face, around her neck and down along her shoulders. Kya melted against him, burying her face in his neck. She loved the smell of him, the way she seemed so small and safe in the circle of his arms. She tried to burn the feeling into her memory.

There was no point in arguing about it. There was no point in a thousand questions, no reason to tell him more of the threat they faced to saddle him with more worry. It was her turn to carry the burden now, and she was determined to do it.

It was his actions, his and Morrigan's, that ensured that she was still breathing – that she had a chance to live her life and not die a martyr for Ferelden and all of Thedas. What sort of an insult would it be to not do as he asked then? Kya couldn't do that to him. Despite everything that he was, everything that he'd done, his mistakes and crimes and horrors, despite the fact that he was about to walk out of her life toward the embrace of his own end, Kya  _loved_ him.

And she was damn well going to live like she really meant it.

She pulled away, just enough to catch his eyes again, this time showing him the strength she'd managed to dredge up out of her misery. That was the strength that he loved – she could see it by the subtle change in his expression, the sly curve to the corner of his mouth, the way his eyelids got just a little heavy.

"I won't lie and tell you that I won't miss you," she said finally. "But I will keep my promise. I  _will_."

"I know that you will," Loghain replied. "You have always been a woman of your word, even when you have promised foolish things, as you did to the King, as I recall." The corner of his mouth quirked a bit more.

Kya cocked her head at him. "If I recall," she said dryly, "Not everything about our jaunt to Ostagar was a horror. I seem to remember make making some rather vivid memories there."

Loghain barked a laugh. This was the man she wanted to remember him as, not cold and walled up, trying to protect himself from her sadness, but the real man hidden under the armor. The man with the surprisingly dirty sense of humor.

"Yes, I do believe I recall that as well," he smirked. Quickly, quicker than he looked like he could move, he swung around, pushing her down on her back. He leaned over her, his dark hair hanging down alongside his face, his customary braids swinging with the movement. Kya grabbed one of them, tugging at it.

"Don't you ever learn?" she smiled. "These give you a headache.'

He shook his head indulgently. "Not anymore," he said. "Apparently there were other causes."

"Nonetheless," she said, unraveling the thread that held the ends and untwisting the hair as she'd done for him so many times before. He smiled at her as she removed both braids, the length of his hair brushing against his angular cheekbones. Kya reached up and tangled her fingers through the thick waves of his hair.

Smiling, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing hers again. "I'm going to miss you too," he sighed and kissed her.

* * *

In the morning with the new sun bright and blinding, they stood at the gate of the Vigil. There was the quiet murmur of the keep waking up around them. Herren and Wade bickering as the forge fires were lit, Voldrik barking at the masons to snap to it, grumbling guards wandering about and complaining about headaches and aching muscles.

The Orlesian guards that accompanied Loghain had finally made their presence known, and Kya was mildly annoyed by their stiff-backed, irritating proximity as she stood with her arms around the waist of Loghain's armor.

There had been some tears and there were sure to be some more in the days to come, but they had made their peace with one another. Neither of them had slept more than a few moments, waking with the knowledge that there would be no more nights to come. They talked and laughed in a new closeness they'd discovered. There was this odd feeling that even though they might never see one another again, unless she found his bones in the Deep Roads some day, they would always be together.

No matter who else they took to their beds, and even into their hearts, they would always be first. Kya felt like a widow at her husband's grave, finally past her mourning, remembering only love and looking forward to the future. She'd never be without him, even when he was gone.

At the moment however, Kya was having a hard time unwrapping herself from around him. Loghain seemed to be having a similar problem, holding on to her tightly while the guards watched and fidgeted in annoyance. Then again, causing distress to Orlesians was one of his favorite pastimes. She could only imagine the menace he was going to be in Montsimmard. She was a bit sad she wouldn't be there to see it.

Eventually, one of the guards cleared his throat. "Warden Loghain," he snapped. "It is time."

Loghain frowned down at Kya, kissing her forehead again before straightening up and finally letting her go. He took a step back, looking at her intently, before his frown slowly dissolved into a smirk.

"Ah," he said quietly, "I have been a lucky man to know you, Kya Amell."

"So you have," Kya grinned in reply. "It has been an  _honor_  to know you, Loghain Mac Tir. May the Maker watch over you."

"And you, my dear," he said. "The honor is mine."

With one last nod, he turned to the guards. They gestured him forward and he nodded again. Resting his hand on the hilt on his sword at his waist, he turned to go. He walked slowly through the gates, once the shadow of the walls receded, the sun glittered on his armor, turning it to brilliant silver. He stopped and turned back for just moment. Loghain's mouth opened as if he was going to speak, but instead he offered Kya a half bow. Then he turned once more and walked away. This time he didn't look back.

Kya leaned against the cool stone wall, watching as they disappeared around the corner and the clanking of his armor faded away. She took a deep breath, but watched the empty road. A pair of sparrows twittered and fluttered around each other, wrestling in the air and then stumbling to the ground. They hopped about, scolding each other before taking flight again. Kya watched them until they turned their path towards the rising sun. Then she had to look away, the brightness made her eyes water.

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, promising herself it was only the sun and nothing else that brought the tears to her eyes. She gave the road one last look before turning away. In a few hours, they had plans to head into the wilds, into the Black Marsh where there were rumors of something strange happening to the veil. Kya had heard almost nothing about darkspawn there, but she was content with that idea. Even a disaster of magic and evil was somehow more appealing than more hurlocks. Of course, that Orlesian Warden, Kristoff had apparently found something there, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to find out why he hadn't returned.

But duty called, as always, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it.

She wandered slowly back toward the keep doors, watching her own feet instead of where she was walking. Apparently she wasn't the only one, because she was stopped short when she walked headlong into Nate. Her arms shot out instinctively, grabbing at his shoulders to brace herself. She stumbled back, but when she saw the look on his face, she removed her hands quickly.

"Good morning Nate," she managed, frowning at his glare.

"Commander," he said perfunctorily. He nodded his head, but still continued to glower at her.

Kya closed her eyes. "What now? What did I do this time?"

"Excuse me?" he snapped.

She blinked up at him. "Well, you're glaring at me like you could burn holes through my skull. So what is it?"

He snorted. "Why do you think everything is about  _you?_ " He looked incensed.

"Pardon me,  _Nathaniel_ ," she said. Before she could say another word he snarled and stomped past her, intentionally banging into her with his shoulder. She spun around with the impact, immediate crackles of lightning jumping between her fingers. He didn't look back at the sound, just marched away.

Nate looked as angry as he had the day she'd removed him from his cell. Whatever progress she thought they'd made seemed to have evaporated. It occurred to her that he had spent a good time talking to Loghain the afternoon before, and she hadn't seen him since.

"Men," she muttered under her breath. " _Honestly._ "

Kya had other matters to attend to, ones that were far more pressing than trying to deal with whatever in the Maker's name went on inside Nate Howe's stubborn, self-important head.

Loghain must have said something to him to set him off. She wondered how long it would take her to deal with this mess. The last time Loghain poked his nose into emotional matters, she nearly ended up with her head on a pike at the King's pleasure. This was the last thing she needed, as if the talking darkspawn and tears in the veil and the disastrous state of the Wardens wasn't enough. She recalled vividly something Sten once said to her, back during the Blight.

" _In any case, I did not come here to console weepy Grey Wardens . . . ."_

And neither had Kya. She had a job to do and it wasn't to make Nate Howe feel better about himself. Whatever his stupidity was about, he was going to have to get over it himself. She just hoped that the next time he needed to have her back in a fight, he wouldn't be distracted by whatever this new madness was and forget to do what he needed to. Kya did not want a darkspawn blade in the back because Nate's honor had been insulted. Or Maker knows what else.

She was so not in the mood for this today.


	10. Little Boy Dreams

Nate scouted up ahead of the rest and was happy for the solitude. One more minute of having to look at her, and he swore he was going to lose his mind. He had a thousand thoughts raging through his mind, and not one of them was pleasant.

He felt like Loghain had been trying to whore him out to service his lady while he was gone.

That, compounded on the half-arsed answers he'd been given about the nature of his father's  _treason_  was entirely more than Nate knew how to deal with. He thought of himself as a simple creature, practical and sensible and not given to flights of fancy. But only the day before he'd had rather few about his Commander. Of course, Loghain's words had the opposite effect Nate assumed he intended.

It felt like a pitcher of snow melt had been poured down the front of his armor. Nothing like feeling like a dog begging for scraps to turn a man's libido into dust.

As they approached the Blackmarsh, an uneasy feeling washed over him. It wasn't darkspawn; he'd learned that particular queasy sensation early. It was something else, something  _wobbly_  in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He stopped short and leaned up against a gnarled tree, waiting for the others to catch up. There was no immediate threat for him to report, only this unsettling sensation. And it was something he figured a mage would be more apt to understand than he did.

He almost expected to hear jovial voices as they came closer, finally appearing in the distance like wraiths through the mist. But there was no joy on those faces. Even Anders looked as pale as milk, and Kya was fairing little better beside him. Her eyes were huge, and she looked utterly on edge.

"See anything?" she asked quietly once they came close. Nate shook his head silently, still not trusting himself to speak.

"Well," Kya said, "That's something."

"That's bullshit," Anders added. "What in the Black City  _is_  that? It's making me feel like my breakfast is going to jump ship."

Kya shook her head. Nate watched as she scanned the tree line, her eyes narrowed as she tried to focus through the fog. He watched her neck move as she swallowed and he looked away quickly once he caught himself staring.

"Nate?" she asked, and he turned back to look at her, almost surprised that she'd reverted to using his nickname again. Apparently she was even more rattled than she looked. Nate was not pleased to see it – a frightened mage was nothing to trifle with.

"What?" he snapped, harsher than he intended. Business was at hand, there was no time for him to behave like a child.

Kya sighed. "Look," she said. "I don't know what your problem is, but you best leave it behind, right now. If this is what I think it is, we're in . . . . we're in deep shit."

"Of course, Commander," he replied with a surprising lack of sarcasm. Kya raised an eyebrow and looked amazed. Nate managed to keep a straight face, since he couldn't decide whether to be irritated or amused. Luckily they canceled each other out into a completely blank expression.

"Anyway," she said, clearing her throat. "As I was saying. You grew up here, what's the deal with this place?"

"Well, my father used to tell me stories about the Blackmarsh," Nate said.

"Your father told you stories?" Kya replied, looking surprised again.

Nate scowled, but only a little. "He was a regular father, once," he said with irritation. "I'm sure it's completely impossible to believe."

Kya gave him a sad smile. "I have no problem with believing the impossible."

The look in her eyes chilled Nate right down to his bones. He tried to attribute it to the eerie feeling of the marsh and the mist, but he knew that was a lie. The little hairs stood up on the back of his neck again. It occurred to him that she had seen more things in the last year than he'd ever even imagined in his worst nightmares. There was a darkness behind her pale eyes that he hadn't noticed before; perhaps it wasn't even there before. Since Loghain's quick arrival and departure, she seemed different.

Or maybe he was just looking at her differently now.

Nate cleared his throat, realizing he'd paused for too long and had been staring like an idiot.

"My father said evil magic killed everyone here. This was just before the rebellion; a great mystery at the time. They never found out what happened here. Once the monsters appeared, the marsh was abandoned," he explained, keeping his voice low. It seemed like too much noise might attract attention. Of course, what sort of attention, he had no idea.

"I wonder if it's a fairy tale," Kya commented off-handedly. "But most of those stories have some basis in reality." She got that strange, faraway look again. "Well, whether it's true or not, it's not much to go on. I guess we'll just have to see for ourselves." She sighed. "And hopefully find Kristoff and not his corpse."

She looked unconvinced, but he nodded in agreement. She started walking, but moved slowly and woodenly. He let her take a few steps ahead, until he noticed Anders sidle up alongside him. The mage gave him a look, then gestured with his head toward Kya who was still moving away slowly.

When Nate just stared at him, Anders frowned.

"She won't talk to me," Anders said, this time fully able to keep his voice down. "And something is wrong. She's going to get herself –  _us_  – killed if she keeps this up."

"What do you want me to do about it?" Nate replied sharply, but still following Anders' example and whispering.

"Are you completely stupid?" Anders sighed.

Nate closed his eyes and opened them again, resigned. "Fine," he said. "I'll talk to her, but it isn't going to help." He felt a hollow ache in his chest as he continued. "I'm not  _him_."

"Well, you're all we've got," Anders replied, jerking his head in her direction again.

Nate gave the mage a blistering look, but conceded and took off after her. It wouldn't take many of his long-legged steps to catch up to her, moving as slowly as she was. But he found himself hesitating. Whatever craziness had been running through his addled mind before, he knew better now.

He'd come home to the Vigil to kill her. It was only guilt over that making him see things that were not there. Guilt and too long since he'd been with a woman. That was all. Kya was his commander, and if he needed to talk sense into her to keep her from getting them killed . . . that was reasonable. Anything else, anything Loghain insinuated was beyond insulting. He wasn't some  _whore_  to warm her bed in place of something better.

As if she'd even want such a thing.

He had a scathing retort all worked out in his head when he managed to catch up with her. Kya glanced over at him and for just a moment, that strange glaze in her eyes cleared. Nate completely forgot what he was going to say.

"I used dream of coming to the Blackmarsh and setting things right," he blurted out. "Little boy dreams." He immediately regretted it once it was out of his mouth, but then felt a bit better when instead of a sharp reply, Kya managed a little half smile. It was the closest thing to a genuine expression he'd seen from her since they'd left the keep that afternoon. It also had the distinct effect of negating the ice water he thought had put down his attraction to her. He felt somewhat like a piece of iron flake being drawn to a lodestone. He wasn't entirely sure he liked it, either.

"That's . . . sweet," she replied. A bit of volume was in her voice then, like she'd finally managed to take a complete breath. "And you are here now."

"So it seems," he said. "I would have never imagined it."

"Stick around; this sort of thing happens all the time," she said. There was a call in the distance that caught her attention, a nighthawk or some other bird making a shrill shriek. Nate watched with entirely too much interest as she looked away and shivered.

"I . . ." Nate started, but then stopped when she turned back to look at him. He'd seen that look before. That expression of feeling completely alone in the world; like the ground had been ripped out from under her feet and she had no idea where she might land. He knew it well. He saw it on his own face, mixed with rage, reflected in the windows of the Vigil when he snuck his way in to end the Commander.

That was when he'd changed his mind, and only wanted a few things to remember his lost life by. And even that had been a lie. He would have turned right around and headed back to the Free Marches if his pride hadn't insisted he do  _something_ after all the trouble he took avoiding patrols to get there.

Kya looked away again, either bothered by his own conflicted expression or too caught up in her own thoughts to even notice. Either way, he knew Anders had a point. If she didn't snap out of it, they were all dead. He reached out and gingerly put his hand on her shoulder.

"Hey," he said. "I . . . I don't know what you are going through, but . . . you have to be  _here_  now. Or we are in some seriously sodding, as you said,  _deep shit._ "

Kya blinked at him, but she was actually looking at him this time, not through him. She sighed.

"I know," she said. She swallowed and took a deep breath. "I won't . . . I'll not . . . ." She couldn't seem to finish a sentence.

"Look," he said, squeezing her shoulder before letting his hand drop again. "You need to be a Grey Warden now. The rest of this will have to wait. And . . . ," he couldn't believe what he was about to say. "I'll have a drink with you once we get back, and we can talk about it then."

She looked surprised, but oddly pleased. "I didn't expect  _that,"_ she said. "To have you lecture me about being a Warden, or . . . ." She only finished her sentence by smiling, but it seemed to do the job well enough.

She squared her shoulders and called Anders up to join them, quickly starting to talk about the veil and other mage things Nate couldn't really follow. But her face had its normal animation again. Anders gave Nate a quick, knowing look before focusing on Kya again.

Nate let himself fall behind just a bit, watching them. What he couldn't understand was why he couldn't still hate her. He'd managed to hate her easily before he'd even known more than her name. But now he was completely unable to even snap at her, for more than a quick moment like he had that morning.

And he only managed it then because he was so damned jealous he could hardly think straight.

Nate realized that what he needed more than anything was a cheap tavern wench, or maybe a long afternoon by himself behind closed doors, or he was going to be the one getting them killed. He had no idea where this was all coming from. Kya was a Grey Warden, his Commander, not to mention a mage, and in love with Loghain Mac Tir, even if he was gone now. She was certainly an attractive woman, but far from the most beautiful, or even the type of woman he'd ever wanted.

Nate used to dream about a pretty, demure thing with yellow hair and a belly full of the next in the Howe line. She'd be a prim and proper lady, the perfect wife of a noble – even though he knew his brother would be the Arl, and not him - he still imagined himself in his father's chair. And he'd be a knight, a hero . . . but instead he was a thief and a Grey Warden. And Kya was not that lady. She was far more of a hero than he'd ever be, and far more a warrior than a lady.

So much for _little boy dreams_.

Loghain had told him not to be a fool. At the time, it seemed clear that he meant to not be a fool and miss out. But perhaps he had meant the opposite. He might have been warning him to stay away - either from what Loghain thought was his, or from something he knew Nate wouldn't be able to handle. Kya was a blood mage after all, and Nate had heard they could do strange things. But then again, Nate had not seen her even make the slightest attempt at controlling him or anyone else. So all his staring and stupidity was all his own fault.

Apparently, he  _wasn't_  listening and he  _was_  a fool.

One way or the other.

 


	11. Truthfully

It just kept getting weirder.

Kya was beside herself. They'd found Kristoff's corpse, as she had expected but hoped against. And now, he was walking around the camp looking for all the world like a newborn kitten. Well, if newborn kittens brandished swords and wore armor, that is. Justice, as Kristoff's body now called itself, wandered off into the underbrush. Kya considered calling after him, but then thought better of it. If he wanted to traipse around, who was she to stop him,  _it_  . . . whatever.

Of course, to get to this point, they'd traveled into the fade and been kicked back out. Killed some undead Orlesian sorceress that shape shifted into a  _thing_  and then, just as the icing on the cake, killed a spectral dragon that looked like the archdemon's little sister.

After all of that, Kya couldn't figure out why she wasn't like Oghren, sprawled out on her back asleep and dead to the world. But sleep was something most Grey Wardens just didn't get to do it seemed. And she wasn't the only one. Despite giant purple circles under his eyes, Anders was still awake, staring blankly into the fire and Nate . . . was off somewhere, presumably gathering wood for their pathetic little fire.

As much as she hated it, she would have given her right arm for the Vigil and its privacy right about now. But she knew she couldn't drag them any further, not after all of this. So they'd settled for just on the outskirts of the marsh, where the mist wasn't quite so cloying. But it was still here. It made every sound seem like a possible attacker coming.

Kya was on edge, to say the least.

She watched as Anders fiddled around in his pack, still looking like he was half not here and rather uncharacteristically quiet. She heard a twig snap and her head snapped up in unison with his. Kya felt a little crackle of pathetic electricity flare around her fingertips. If this was something that needed killing, they were in some serious trouble.

Instead, Nate appeared back out of the mist with an armload of half wet wood. He noted their feverish looks by nodding his head. He dropped the armload of wood on the ground next to the fire and crouched, feeding one of the limbs to the flames. The fire died for a moment, but then flared up again with its new fuel. It should have made Kya feel warmer, these bright, dancing little flames. Instead, she shivered.

Anders sighed and went back to digging in his pack. His face got a silly little grin as he fished Ser Pounce-A-Lot out of his pack like he was a forgotten and rumbled tunic. The kitten seemed completely unperturbed and mewed once before starting to purr so loudly Kya could hear him over the crackling of the fire.

"Are you telling me you've had that cat in your pack this whole time?" Nate asked, looking dubious.

Anders raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. "I didn't say a word."

Nate shook his head. "How can your pack not smell like a sewer?"

Anders frowned and with his free hand lifted the pack up to his face, sniffing delicately. He made a bit of a face and then shrugged, as if it was completely normal for his pack to smell of kitten. And of 'cooped up in a leather sack kitten' no less.

Kya chuckled almost unconsciously, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees.

"What?" Anders asked, smirking. "You want me to share? Do you want the kitten?" he said, holding out Ser Pounce-A-Lot in one hand. "Or the leather sandbox?" he added, holding up the pack in his other.

Kya held up both her empty hands, waving him off. "No thanks," she said. "This marsh smells bad enough without any help."

Anders gave her a look of mock offense. "Suit yourself," he replied. "More for me then. And now that I have my kitten, I can finally sleep."

With a great deal of noise and commotion, he flopped his pack on the ground, curled up on his side and rested his head on the pack. He snuggled Ser Pounce-A-Lot against his chest. Anders made a contented little sound and in seconds was snoring faintly.

Kya glanced up at Nate. "Apparently I need to get a kitten. If it meant I could get some sleep."

"It seems to work for him," Nate said, raising an eyebrow. "But I somehow doubt it's a cure-all for insomnia."

"Maybe I should just start drinking," Kya said, nodding her head at Oghren. "It seems just as effective. And with a slightly less offensive odor."

"I hope you don't mean the dwarf smells better than the kitten," Nate said, a little smile creeping on to the corner on his mouth. "Because I'd rather sleep  _inside_  Anders' pack than spoon with Oghren."

Kya barked a laugh, loudly – almost too loudly - and she slapped her hand over her mouth. Nate looked pleased with himself. She discovered she was equally as pleased to see him look that way. She liked it when he let his guard down.

Anders made an irritated sound at Kya's laugh, wriggling himself into a ball. Kya gave him a look, the sort usually reserved for small children and puppies. She looked back up at Nate, pressing a hushing finger over her lips.

"Yes, yes," Nate whispered, getting back up on to his feet again. "We wouldn't want to wake sleeping beauty."

Kya gave him a lopsided grin. "Good idea. He gets even more unbearable without sleep," she said, keeping her voice soft. "Now if only I could sleep."

"That would be nice, wouldn't it?" Nate agreed. He was looking down at her with a conflicted expression and after a moment folded his arms across his chest. That turned Kya's smile into a frown. Slowly she got up on to her feet, trying to ignore the throbbing ache of her muscles. She made her way around the fire to stand next to him.

"Nightmares?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Not really, not since that first one."

"Hm," Kya replied noncommittally. "That's good. Not normal, but good."

"Nothing about being a Grey Warden has been normal so far," he said. "Why start now?"

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence that leapt up around them. Kya shifted her weight from one foot to the other, looking carefully at her scuffed boots. She tried to think about polishing them, about paperwork waiting on her desk, about anything other than this difficult quiet.

And by Andraste's ass, Loghain had just left that morning. But that was the problem, wasn't it? Before he'd come and then gone again . . . well, things were strange but somehow normal. Two young people, looking at each other like young people do, and to hell with the rest of it. It had been easy to forget they'd only met because Nate had wanted to kill her. It had been easy to forget that she'd had some semblance of a life before that included a lover. With the long road to Denerim between them, looking at Nate and seeing a man instead of just another Grey Warden was perfectly normal.

But nothing seemed normal about it now.

"Well," Kya said quietly, clearing her throat and turning to look at him. Nate looked at her out of the corner of his eye at first, slowly turning his head to meet her eyes. Kya opened her mouth, trying to think of something to say to break the undeniable tension but discovered she was completely at a loss for words.

Nate's brow furrowed. "Well," he echoed her.

Kya looked away quickly, folding her own arms around herself. They stared at the fire then, in silence, for what seemed like an eternity. The snapping of the embers was so loud, Kya was convinced she could feel it inside her head. Or maybe that was the thudding of blood through her ears. She had no idea what it was about him, but standing this close to Nate made her feel like her head was about to explode.

Alistair had told her once that she made him feel that way. She knew now that it was his way of trying to tell her that her loved her. And he'd told her that, right before she took him to her tent for the first time and . . . well. . . it was best not to think about  _that_  too much. She was having enough problems already.

Finally, she sighed, reaching up to cradle her forehead in her hand. She rubbed her temples.

She had the urge to speak again, but this time her guilt hit her with full force. Here she was, standing here with throbbing equally in her temples and  _elsewhere_  with Loghain's sweat hardly dry on her skin. No matter what Loghain had said, no matter what she thought he might want her to do, how low was this? How could she be so callow, so dirty? It was as if she was only capable of thinking with her appetites and not with her head. Or even with her heart.

But her heart wasn't thinking very clearly right now either.

She glanced over to find Nate staring at her intently, but the moment he caught her eyes, he looked away. Kya took a deep breath, trying to calm herself.

"This isn't going to work," Nate said abruptly.

Kya looked over at him, but wasn't able to meet his eyes. "What isn't?"

"This," he repeated. "Whatever  _this_ is."

Kya snorted. "And what is it?"

"I . . . ," he started, but stopped when they finally made eye contract. Kya did her best to mask her confusion with a hard expression. "Nothing," he said. "It's  _nothing._ "

"Clearly," Kya snapped in reply. She closed her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that it felt like a flock of tiny birds had taken up residence inside her rib cage. She was a lousy liar, and she knew it. But nonetheless, she pressed on. Heart and whatever else was thoroughly trumped by guilt.

She opened her eyes again to look at Nate, but now he resolutely refused to look at her, staring at the fire like it held secrets he intended to ferret out.

"Goodnight," she snapped in annoyance, although more with herself than with him. " _Nathaniel._ "

She made her way over to curl up next to Anders. She snuck a look at Nate over her shoulder as she laid down, back to back with Anders, cradling her head on her arm. He looked like she'd slapped him.

Kya closed her eyes, feigning sleep, despite knowing it wouldn't come. She burrowed herself against Anders. His bony shoulder blades poked into her back, but that was a little discomfort in comparison. She listened as Nate paced around a little before sitting down rather hard. She heard the distinct sound of his boot digging a trench into the dirt. Then the sound of another limb being fed into the fire. And then silence.

It was that same eerie silence that had pervaded everything since they set foot in the marsh. The veil might be closed now, but it was still thin. Kya wanted to blame her discomfort on that; or on the battle, the dragon, the talking darkspawn, anything really. Any one of a dozen reasonable things to have her tied in knots and any one of those things would have been enough to send any reasonably sane person into fits.

After all that had happened to her so far in her short life, none of those things really seemed to be that much of a problem. Kill or be killed was an easy enough thing to understand.

Her heart was an entirely more difficult problem. She knew Loghain had a point in all the things he'd said to her. He couldn't be with her for long, orders to report to Orlais or not. She knew he could already feel the beginnings of the Calling, despite being a Grey Warden for such a short time. There was a very good reason most Wardens were joined young. Of course, youthful stupidity was certainly another factor.

Kya wanted to dream that Loghain was going to come back. Or that she'd manage to get this mess under control and then she'd be free to follow him to Montsimmard. But she  _was_ a lousy liar, and wasn't able to lie to herself about this any more than she could lie to herself about anything. Loghain said he'd managed to lie to himself for years. Kya had no idea how he did it.

Truthfully, Kya loved Loghain with all her heart, even so. Even knowing she'd never see him again. But just as truthfully, her heart was telling her that it very much wanted her to get closer to Nate Howe. It told her that he was what she wanted now, even if it didn't make any sense.

Sometimes, she wished she could just cut her heart out of her chest and be done with it.

 


	12. The Problem

Someday, when bards told the tale of these times, and Nathaniel was sure that they would, he had a feeling they would gloss over the long weeks of waiting and get right to the point. There would be a story about the darkspawn talking and coming up from under the Vigil. There would be a story about a mad elf witch in the Wending Woods. There would be a story about a spectral dragon in the Black Marsh. He was sure there'd also be a story about what was to come – some mad quest into the nearly uncharted wilderness to find a gash in the earth that supposedly lead to the Deep Roads.

What they wouldn't tell was how much sodding time there was doing  _nothing_  and pacing around like a caged animal. They wouldn't tell the story of how Kya had gone off half cocked to Amaranthine with that ex-Warden, possessed by the Maker knows what, to find said Grey Warden's  _wife_  and tell her everything was okay.

As if they didn't have better things to do.

Nate could understand it, a bit. He wondered how he would feel if someone he cared about, his sister perhaps, was dead and gone but still walking around. It would be beyond difficult to accept. It was a compassionate thing to do after all. But he still found it hard to believe that Kya Amell had a big well of compassion in her.

Mostly, he was beginning to think she was just a bitch.

Of course, if he was honest, that had more to do with her ignoring him; her coldness since they'd returned to the keep, the way she couldn't even seem to look at him. Nate also supposed that was mostly his fault, for seeing things that weren't there. For thinking . . . well whatever he'd been thinking, it was over now.

Done.

 _Finished_.

Kya and Justice had been gone for over a week, and Nathaniel was bored out of his mind. He was so miserable that after he'd poured over the maps of the forest around Amaranthine for the thirtieth time, he found himself actually  _looking_  for Anders. It was insane, but at least the mage would be amusing. Or by the Maker, Nate surely hoped so.

He found Anders propped up under a tree, dangling a bit of string for his kitten, looking for all the world like this was any normal, lovely, summer day. He seemed to have a knack for finding any little bit of pleasure he could, no matter what the circumstances. Anders looked up as Nate approached, raising a wary eyebrow at him.

"Nathaniel Howe," Anders drawled. "What can I do for you?"

Nate shook his head as he sat down beside him gracefully, folding his legs. "I honestly don't know, but whatever you do will be better than pacing around here anymore."

"You should have grown up in the tower," Anders replied. "You'd be used to waiting."

Nate grunted. "Well, shockingly, I didn't and I'm not."

"Aren't you in a lovely mood," Anders laughed. "What is your problem besides the obvious?"

"What's obvious?" Nate snapped, scowling.

Anders held up his hands. "Whoa there big boy," he laughed. "Don't pop something."

"Maker's blood," Nate swore. He rubbed his forehead irritably.

"Look," Anders said, putting his hand on Nate's shoulder. "Do I need to take you to a brothel or something? I hear there's a good one in Amaranthine and . . . ." He stopped short when Nate shrugged his hand off and glared at him. "Sorry, don't get all darkspawn on me. I was just trying to lighten the mood."

Nate's glare dissolved a little. "Andraste's Ass, I know," he sighed. "I'm on edge. I just need something to do." He scowled again. "And not a brothel. That won't help."

"Are you sure? It usually helps me . . . ," Anders trailed off again at Nate's hard expression. "Right, no whores. Got it." He pursed his lips. "So what then? What can Anders do for you?"

"I . . . eh," Nate sighed. It was like admitting defeat here, but he didn't know anyone else to ask. It wasn't as if he was going to try to have a deep conversation with the dwarf. "Tell me something. About Kya."

Anders raised an eyebrow. "Oh? What do you want to know?"

"I don't know," Nate admitted. "Anything really. I don't think I understand her."

"You think you should? Well, good luck with that," Anders said, grinning. "She's a woman. I don't claim to understand them."

"You know her better than I do," Nate said. "Considering she won't speak to me. And I thought . . . well, I thought she'd forgiven me for being an idiot."

"She did," Anders said. "And I think  _that's_  the problem."

Nate just replied with a blank look, since it was all he could manage. Anders seemed to be insinuating that there was something . . . apparently the same thing that had been driving him to distraction that Kya made very clear was not the case.

"I know she's being crazy," Anders continued. "But she feels guilty. And truth is, us mages have guilt beaten into us with a pretty big stick. It's hard to get over."

"Guilty about what?" Nate asked.

"You really are completely stupid, aren't you?" Anders asked, looking perplexed. "Look, I don't know much about romantic stuff, past the initial stages, if you know what I mean. But, Maker's hairy balls man . . . she was . . . Maker. I'm not sure she'd want me to tell you."

Nate blinked at him. "Tell me what?"

"Ah, I'm surprised you haven't heard all the gossip already," Anders sighed. "But really, it's a mess. I mean, you know the story about the Blight?"

"Supposedly," Nate snorted. "But she was seven feet tall and perfect, so I'm guessing it might have been a bit exaggerated."

"Not by much," Anders chuckled. "Really though, it's a mess. I got her drunk before she went to Amarathine with Ser  _Dead_  and well, she spilled it."

Nate blinked. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to hear this.

"During the Blight, she and King Alistair were the only Grey Wardens left. And, well, you  _know_ ," Anders explained, gesturing with his eyebrows.

"What?" Nate blurted out. "You're . . . ."

Anders nodded. "I am. Yes," he said. "And then, when she refused to execute Loghain at the Landsmeet . . . well, you can guess how happy that made the King. I'm sure you've heard how he is."

"So I've heard," Nate replied. "Apparently, he's rather . . . not Kingly."

"That's an understatement. He was a Templar, you know," Anders said, grinning sarcastically. "They train them to be crazy. Well,  _anyway_. And then you know the bit about Loghain. Or maybe not."

"I do have eyes," Nate groused.

"She's kind of broken up about it," Anders continued. "Although  _I_  don't understand it. He was hardly personable. And he's  _old._  But she says that she loves him, so I guess that's just the way it is." He frowned. "And  _this_  is the problem. She told me she can't even look at you without feeling guilty."

Nate was not proud of the lurch in his chest at that. The idea that she might . . . it was really too much. But she was a remarkable woman, whether he wanted to admit it or not. Despite everything, he wanted her. And not just her body, lovely though it might be. He wanted her to talk to him, like she talked to Anders. He wanted to  _know_  her in whatever way he could.

"Andraste's tits," Nate muttered.

"Well, you asked," Anders said. "Not that I'm sure it's any use anyway. We'll probably all be dead before this is over with, knowing my luck."

Nate grunted. " _Your_  luck? You have no idea."

"Let's not have a pissing contest about who's life is more stupid, shall we?" Anders replied. "It'll make me depressed." He was flippant, as usual, but Nate could see there was some truth behind that.

They all had ghosts.

He wasn't sure any of this information actually helped him, but it was more than he knew before, he had to admit. Strange as it was, what bothered him the most was that she was broken up over it. Somehow, the idea of a woman falling for him and hating herself over it was slightly less than appealing.

"I don't know what to tell you," Anders said, seeming to recognize Nate's train of though. "I'm useless for this sort of thing. I've got no interest in more cages, thank you."

"Never thought of it like that," Nate admitted. "But I never really thought of it at all."

"I prefer to think about brothels myself," Anders smirked. "Less complicated."

Nate groused at him and stood. Anders looked up in response and gave the worst impression of an innocent look Nate had ever seen.

"What?" he asked. Nate just replied by shaking his head and walking away. He could hear Anders chuckling behind him. At least someone was in a good mood.

He certainly wasn't. He couldn't decide how to feel. And really, when it came down to it, they didn't have time for this now, not any more than she had time to wander off to Amaranthine. But she did it anyway, and he seemed unable to stop himself.

But really, was it just because he was lonely? His whole life had been turned upside down. When he was in the Free Marches, it was just the thought of finally being able to come  _home_  again that kept him going. It was so foreign, so not home, that sometimes it took everything he had not to run off back to Ferelden. It was only imagining the disappointed look in his father's eyes that stayed him.

And now his father was dead. His family was broken, and the Ferelden he knew was gone – if it had ever really existed at all. Who could blame him for going a little crazy?

Nate headed back across the courtyard, thinking that perhaps tearing a practice dummy apart might help burn off the strange ache inside his chest. Something had to. Talking with Anders certainly hadn't helped. He kept replaying the words inside his head.

_She can't even look at you without feeling guilty._

As if he didn't feel guilty enough already as it was. He heard commotion at the gates and turned his head just in time to see Kya and Justice finally wander back from their little distraction. They were talking closely, walking close together. He saw her smile at Justice – and he was a walking corpse. Yet she was walking next to him, talking to  _him_  like they were friends. And maybe they were.

But he wasn't her friend. And maybe that was the problem.

She looked up finally and caught sight of him, lingering and standing around like an idiot. She just blinked at him and the smile she had for Justice faded off her face. It felt a little bit like she'd stabbed him. He knew he should walk in the other direction. He knew he should just let it be; but damn him if he hadn't proven already that he was stupid and made rash, impulsive decisions.

Instead, he walked right toward her. He could sworn that she stumbled a little bit when he did.

"Commander," he said, once he was a reasonable distance away.

"Nathaniel," she replied. He tried to ignore that she cringed a little.

"Do you have a moment?" he said, trying to sound reasonably pleasant. "Because I think I said I owed you a drink."

Kya shook her head. "Not now," she said and refused to meet his eyes, looking off somewhere over his head.

"Of course," he said. "Another time perhaps." He offered a half bow and side stepped, letting her pass around him. He didn't turn to watch her go, just stared out through the gates of the Vigil at the winding road beyond. He used to dream about walking up through those gates and coming home. Now he just wanted to run away.

Behind him, he heard the distinctive rasp of Justice's voice.

"Did you not say my lady," he said. "That you must never allow fleeting chances to pass you by?"

"I might have," he heard her quiet reply. "But . . . it's complicated Justice. It really is."

"Ah," Justice replied. "I do have much to learn."


	13. The Letter from Montsimmard

_**. . . . a piece of parchment lays on the desk, half crumpled and then carefully smoothed back out again. The fire crackles and the only other sound is quiet but dysrhythmic breathing. . . .** _

* * *

_Kya,_

_A part of me did not want to write this – I admit I liked the idea that back in my beloved Ferelden I would still be, if only in your mind. But I know you and I know that once you had half the chance, you would be persistently on your way to Orlais, no matter what I had told you. The idea that you would travel so far, only to be met with this from an Orlesian stranger; it makes my blood run cold._

_I should have told you, I know. But I couldn't bear the thought of those last moments being any more painful than they already were. Selfish of me, I'm sure. But some things I cannot change about myself, and I think perhaps you would be disappointed if they did._

_It is time._

_Once the ink has dried, once this letter is safely in the hands of the courier, I will make my way towards the inevitable. The Deep Roads are calling, and as much as I have fought it, it is to no avail._

_By the time you are reading this, it is likely that I will already be dead._

_I will not ask that you do not mourn for me, although the thought to write it did cross my mind. I will say instead that I have lived, far longer than I ever expected to as a young man, and have been given far more chances than perhaps I even deserved. Much of my life was bitter and cold, but despite all my mistakes, I have been given a great gift by this – and by you._

_No dying feeble in a bed, no assassins blade, no poison save for the taint in my blood. Your choice gives me the chance to die as I have lived – on my feet, unafraid and facing that which so many others could never muster the courage to endure._

_I will die with honor and with your name on my lips, of this you can be certain._

_May the Maker watch over you always,_

_Loghain_

 

* * *

 

_**. . . . still the fire crackles. A hand reaches up to the parchment, mangling the edges in uncareful fingers. She reads it again, aloud, her voice ragged and the words hardly understandable.** _

_**The death of a Grey Warden is no small thing, nor is it something that is not to be expected. We all die, someday; Grey Wardens know their own death the moment they taste darkspawn blood and lyrium.** _

_**She says the words then, words branded into her brain like they are a part of her.** _

" _ **In war, victory."**_

_**Swallowing hard.** _

" _ **In peace, vigilance."**_

_**A small sound. A pause, though the last words are right there at her lips. They must be said now. Yet she wonders if she refuses, if something might change and be different. A vain hope that, but still, she thinks it. And then the words tumble out because she simply cannot stop them.** _

" _ **In death, sacrifice."**_

_**Silence again.** _

_**Then, after a while, the sound of heartbroken, inconsolable weeping.** _


	14. The Instead

Nate hadn't thought it possible, but somehow, Kya looked even more haunted than the dwarven man that had died in a heap in front of them. And despite all the fighting and madness, despite the rather droll sense of humor from the newest recruit to their little band, she was again off in her own little world.

How she managed it down here in the Deep Roads he'd never know.

The feeling of the darkspawn was everywhere down here. It pulsed in the air; he could taste it in his breath. After a while, it was a bit like a bad smell – still there but something you got used to and able to ignore. To a point anyway.

If it had been up to him, they would have been back on the surface already. Kya didn't seem as disturbed by it; she said she'd spent enough time in the Deep Roads to not be bothered. He thought she was lying, but he had no way to prove it. But there was something in her expression that told him she had another motive.

Oghren and Sigrun, their newest tag-a-long, were sharing a bottle. Anders . . . well, he'd stayed behind at the keep, much to Nate's dismay. That thought worried him more than a little. The mere idea that he  _wanted_  the mage's company made him feel like he'd lost his senses. But Anders had a calming influence on Kya. Anders also tended to get her to talk when she needed to, which was something Nate had found himself completely unable to do lately – no matter how much he wanted to.

Wanted to and hated himself for it simultaneously.

But he felt like he didn't have any choice but to try. She had wandered off, just outside the circle of their firelight. Oghren seemed too busy trying to seduce Sigrun, and Sigrun was trying too hard to rebuff him that neither of them noticed when Nate scuttled off into the shadows after her.

He found her standing on the arch of a bridge, which still amazed him.  _A sodding bridge_ , under the ground and over a river as black as tar that smelled of old death and darkspawn. Certainly, she hadn't chosen the spot for the view. He padded up to her, not bothering to disguise his footsteps. He knew how she got when startled, especially lately. She'd almost singed off Oghren's beard just that morning.

"Commander?" he said softly, announcing his presence. Kya turned her eyes in his direction for quick moment but looked away just as swiftly. She took a deep breath, her hands flexing against the worn stone. She looked like she was a million miles away.

"Yes Nathaniel?" she managed to mutter out. She'd taken to using his full name again, setting a huge wall between them. Perhaps it was for the best, and even though her tone was more exhausted than irritated, it tugged at Nate in a way he was sure he didn't like.

Nonetheless, he pressed on. "Are you sure it's a good idea?" he asked, already knowing it was terrible idea. "To be out here in the dark alone, I mean? I know you can feel it too."

She nodded. "I can; but it's always like that down here. There aren't any nearby; it's safe enough."

"If there aren't any of those giant spiders you mentioned out looking for a meal," he added, and not terribly helpfully. But he needed to keep her talking somehow. What he really couldn't wrap his head around was how she managed to defeat the Blight, when she seemed so sodding  _fragile_.

"I can handle spiders," she said, snorting. "I'd handled worse."

Nate raised an eyebrow, although he knew she wasn't looking. "I'm sure you have," he said. "But you've never seemed this close to breaking before either."

Kya's head snapped to him and her eyes narrowed for a moment, but the ire faded, replaced again by that strange, faraway look. She took a long breath, staring at him like she was trying to puzzle something out.

"Why do you care?" she tried to snap, but failed at sounding gruff. "I haven't failed to do my duty before, and I'm not about to start now." She swallowed hard enough for Nate to see her throat move. "Sodding  _duty_." She snorted again. "I should just run off to Antiva and tell the sodding First Warden what he can do with his  _duty_."

He knew she saw both his eyebrows rise at that. He tried to dredge up a suitably wry reply but nothing came to mind. He opened his mouth, thinking to force something out, but nothing came. Kya turned her eyes back to the oily water again.

"He's here somewhere," she said, almost more to herself than to him. "His corpse anyway."

"Who is?" Nate asked.

Kya looked back at him over her shoulder. "Loghain," she said in a tone nearing reverence.

"What do you mean?" Nate knew he looked genuinely confused, considering that was how he felt. It wasn't as if she could feel Loghain. Not that Wardens didn't immediately recognize the taint in one another, but from so far, love or not, she couldn't know such a thing on instinct.

"I knew it was coming," she said, hanging her head down, her hair falling forward to cover her face. "I tried to pretend it wasn't happening . . . _Loghain was too strong for the taint to take him so soon_  . . . but I knew it was. The letter from Montsimmard only told me what I already knew." She turned to look at him, her face still hanging down and half veiled by her hair.

"He's gone," she said. "The Calling that I told you about, it took him and by now he's dead under a heap of darkspawn."

"I, uh . . . ," Nate stuttered. "I really have nothing I can say to that."

"Didn't expect you would," she sighed. Kya turned around and half sat on the stone railing. "I know he'll hardly be mourned. I know what the world thought of him Nathaniel. I know what  _I_  thought of him too, for a long time." She shook her head. "They'll say it's too good an ending for him, to die a Grey Warden, passing through the gates into the Deep Roads with fanfare, no matter how small."

"Maybe, maybe not," he replied. He just stared at her then, unable to finish his thought. He knew how it felt to love a traitor. It was different, true. His father was blood, his father was . . .  _his father_  and that sort of love isn't something you get to choose. Kya chose to overlook what Loghain had done, the bitter man the world knew, and loved him anyway. And loved him clearly in a way most people never get the chance to know.

Maybe that was what he was really jealous of in the end.

"It's not like I didn't know this day would come," she continued. "But I know this is the closest to him I can ever be again. By the time my Calling comes . . . he'll be nothing but dust."

"Maybe so," Nate said, coming and standing next to her, leaning back against the railing as well. "But does it really matter?" He noted her questioning expression and continued. "Look, maybe you don't realize this, because it's come so easy for you, but most of us don't get loved at all. And you . . .  _Maker_  . . . the King of Ferelden and the Hero of River Dane loved you. Don't you get it? Not everyone gets those sort of chances." He looked away, trying to ignore her watching him. "He's dead, yes. But you got loved. Maybe you should think about that instead."

Before she could reply, Nate stood up quickly and took a few steps away. That was more telling than he'd intended. But damn her if she just didn't understand. Maybe she'd been raised in a tower without her family, but after finally admitting to the truth of his own memories, maybe she was the lucky one. He may have loved his father, but it was clear the sentiment had never been returned. It was stupid to keep living in denial.

He took a breath and another half step forward.

"Nathaniel," she said, freezing him in place. " _Nate_ ," she amended quietly. "You're probably right. But I've always been selfish; some things don't . . .  _can't_ change."

He glanced back at her over his shoulder.

"Some things really ought to," he muttered before marching away. He could feel her eyes burning holes in his back but he refused to stop. Maybe she wanted his company now, but she'd pushed him away one too many times. He had his pride, such as it was. Bruised and battered maybe, but still his. Somehow, standing there felt like defeat, or at least the bitterest form of victory.

If she wanted his company, she'd have to come to him.

Besides, there were things that needed killing and if nothing else, that was something he was good at. It was a sad legacy; that thought. The last of the Howes and his greatest deeds were corpses littered with arrows. He'd always lived his life in a mode of perpetual 'maybe someday' but with things as they were – with the taint in his blood and death around every corner – his legacy could only be what was already. There might be no 'someday' to look forward to.

All he saw when he looked ahead was a cold soldier's bed and lifetime of protecting people that hated him. Perhaps a little part of him understood Loghain better than he realized. Perhaps they were more alike than he'd care to admit. Nate only wondered if the bitterness that had etched lines into Loghain's face was eating away at him already.

Nate curled into a solitary ball and feigned sleep, listening to the odd inflection the two dwarves used when they spoke to one another. Oghren complained about his wife and the alcohol seemed to have mellowed Sigrun enough to commiserate with him.

" _Felsi,_ " Oghren muttered, his tone muddied by drink. "She doesn't get it, she doesn't know that fire in your belly from battle; it's better than the strongest ale. You know it, don't tell me you don't know what I'm talking about."

Sigrun made a soft chuckle. "I do, Duster or not. Every day in Dust Town was a battle – out here it's just more honest. I know what you're saying. Even if I could, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't go back. I couldn't go back. Even if some snotty noble wanted to make me his mistress. It doesn't matter. I'll die out here one way or the other and it's the only way I know how to be." She made a little sound Nate couldn't completely identify. "People like us can't have nice things."

"Oh aye, that's the truth," Oghren said, punctuating his sentence with a less robust than usual belch. Nate heard the sound of crunching footsteps. "You know what I mean, dontcha Kya?" he slurred. " _You know_."

"Maybe," Kya replied, she voice sounded rough. "But even so, don't you think you owe Felsi something?" She sounded far more serious than she ever did talking to Oghren. She usually didn't bother. "She's your sodding wife and the mother of your child and . . . she loves you."

"Hmph," Oghren grunted. "Don't matter, not enough for her to understand me."

"You know," she said. "I'd give anything to have had the chances you've had Oghren; and here you sit pissing it away like its water." She snorted. "Some of us don't get choices."

Nate resisted the urge to chuckle, sad though it might be. Apparently, his words had more of an impact of her than he'd expected. He listened for a bit longer, looking for some opportunity to conveniently "wake" and see the expression on Kya's face when he did it. But instead their voices all blended together into a white noise and lulled him into a fitful sleep.

And by Andraste's lily white ass, he wished it hadn't. He also wished he'd dream of darkspawn; however insane a notion that was. Instead, and as always, his sodding father and his disapproving eyes, the taunting, the abuse. Before he'd only let himself remember in dreams, pushing it deep so it wouldn't break him. But now there was no more reason to. He was free to hate his father without repercussions.

He was free to spit on Rendon Howe's grave and tell him exactly what sort of a man he was.

Problem was, he just couldn't get past his blood. As he finally woke to the rough shaking of a hungover and irritable Oghren, with the smell of some fungal ale so thick around him it could gag a maggot, his mind decided to slap him, just a bit harder for good measure.

Kya standing over his father as he died, the last words she'd told him bubbling out of his father's mouth along with his life's blood.

_Maker spit on you. I deserved . . . .more._

And he did, the Maker that was. He'd been spitting on Nathaniel Howe from the first day he refused to do some disgusting thing his father requested of him and became the family disappointment. Nate wondered if he did too –  _deserve more -_  than the shit mess that he'd inherited. But what did a man like him deserve really; a man who couldn't even please his own father; traitor and murderer and Maker only knows what else?

Nate jolted awake finally, hoping to the Black City he didn't look as horrid as he felt. Kya was leaning on her staff a few paces away, watching with a wistful, wan smile. Sigrun was standing beside her looking equally amused, but a great deal less sad – which was impressive for a dead woman.

"Andraste's blood," Nate swore, pushing Oghren away harshly. "Your breath is more deadly than your axe."

"Ha," Oghren snorted, kicking Nate in the thigh before pulling his axe off his back, but wincing at the sound. "Want to test that lad?" he said through gritted teeth before stumbling and nearly dropping his axe. Sigrun snickered.

Nate stood up gracefully, towering over Oghren. "What are you gonna do down there? Bite my legs off?"

Oghren grumbled something incomprehensible before struggling to fasten his axe to his back.

"Eh," he finally snipped. "You ain't worth cleaning the blood off my armor."

Nate forced a grin and looked up. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat that rose from seeing the answering grin on Kya's face. It didn't work. He gave up and shrugged, that weird flip-burn-leap in his chest when her smile widened.

"Come on then," Kya said, half snickering at them. "There's more to do than just sit around here. We've got places to be and people to kill."

Nate nodded and grabbed his pack and bow. At first, he made no move to follow, he just watched her entirely too carefully. Somehow, as she always seemed to, she noticed and glanced back at him over her shoulder. She gave him an odd knowing smile.

"You too, Nate," Kya said. "You owe me a drink, in case you forgot."

Nate knew he looked equally pleased and shocked. He also knew that he immediately blushed like a virgin maid. Normally, he would have been mortified. Today? Not so much.

_More indeed._


	15. Segue

It wasn't unexpected, being dragged off the moment she walked through the gate. Varel had a new pile of paperwork and madness. Really, that would have been fine, if it hadn't been for the terrified look on the seneschals' face when he told her the darkspawn were about to march on Amaranthine. Hate it as she might, little backwater that it was, Kya did not want to see the city stomped into nothingness and tainted by talking monsters.

She also didn't want to die when she was still acting like a lovelorn twat.

Loghain would not have been proud, to say the least. Kya wasn't stupid after all; he'd loved her for all those qualities that so many others might find abhorrent in a woman - aggression, practicality, hard-headedness. . .  _pragmatism_. Even Anders saw it in her after all; even in his backwards flirting, he'd called her the same. And honestly, she'd been acting anything but. What sort of practical reaction to Loghain's death, a death she always knew was coming, was moping and self-flagellation?

How pathetic to die in the coming days being such a low quality version of herself?

Kya sighed and leaned forward on her elbows. The paperwork wasn't getting done, and there was no point in pretending she was going to try. She knew in the morning, she'd have to stand in front of her Wardens and in front of the rest of the keep and tell them what was coming. Tonight they would have one last evening of not thinking their lives were hanging by a thread. Yet Kya felt the urge to tell someone because although the rest of the Vigil might get one last night of deep, restful sleep, she certainly wasn't going to.

Not unless she got so drunk she couldn't think, and frankly since becoming a Grey Warden, the quantity of alcohol that took was hardly worth the effort.

The thought of alcohol reminded her of a promise she'd made. She promised a drink with Nate. And Maker's fat behind, she knew she'd tell him what was coming the moment she tasted some alcohol; maybe it wasn't fair. Instead of going to him, spilling her guts and ending up . . . okay, honestly, ending up exactly where she was wanting to be. . . .

Hadn't she just been berating herself for not being practical? Why feel guilty for the exact thing that Loghain had pushed her towards? Kya  _wanted_  Nathaniel Howe. Denying it wasn't changing that cold, hard fact. And unless she'd gone blind, he shared the feeling. Why not take advantage of that; why waste one last chance to be alive while they were both still breathing?

There was a sharp rap on the door, but no voice followed it. Kya frowned but got up from the desk, glad to be without the weight of her armor. She leaned her head against the door for a moment, took a deep breath like a woman about to plunge under water and opened the door. Nate stood on the other side, a faint look of amusement on his face mixed with an equal amount of trepidation.

He was dressed simply, his ivory linen shirt rolled up to his elbows and untied at his neck. There was a little patch of dark hair just below the hollow of his throat. It reminded her of the patch of scruff he allowed to grow under his lower lip.

She wondered what it might feel like if he kissed her. It was not the first time she'd wondered about it.

Trying to keep her composure, she gestured him in. He had a pair of heavy crystal glasses in one hand, a dusty bottle in the other and he raised them in greeting.

"I knew there was some of the good stuff hiding here somewhere," he said. His voice gave away more anxiety than his face did. "And having been a teenager here, I knew right where to look." His grin was crooked and nervous. It made Kya feel drunk already. Without a word, she stepped back giving him room to pass. She wondered what kind of expression she was wearing, but didn't really want to hazard a guess. She imagined it was probably insipid.

"I warn you," she said as she closed the door. "If I drink that, I'm going to start talking and I may never shut up."

Nate gave her a crooked smile. She tried not to be totally mesmerized by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he genuinely smiled, instead of just faked it.

"That's fine with me," he replied. "Less pressure for me to say something witty."

Kya barked a little laugh. If nothing else, he was always doing that. He had just the right sort of dry, sarcastic humor to make her laugh; especially when she didn't think it was possible. He turned away and set the bottle on the table, fiddling with the cork and filling the glasses. She watched him a bit too carefully, intrigued by the smooth, seamless gait of his movements. He might have sometimes seemed a bit uncomfortable in his soul, but he seemed very at ease in his skin.

Nate turned and offered her a glass. Kya took it gingerly, wanting both to hesitate when their fingers touched and just as strongly wanting to run screaming in the other direction. She couldn't read his expression; it was carefully guarded. He smiled again, but this time the little crinkles in his eyes appeared and disappeared so quickly she almost missed it. He raised his glass.

"To . . . ," he began. He looked a bit self-conscious, but swallowed and continued. " . . . absent  _friends_." There was no mistaking that he meant Loghain. Clearly he wasn't going to make this easy for her.

Kya raised her glass in reply. "And to new ones," she said, before gently touching the rim of her glass to his. Kya took a sip and discovered that the 'good stuff' was very old whiskey with a kick like a mule.

Kick or not, compared to darkspawn blood, it was pretty tame. So she smiled around the rim of her glass before taking another long drink and setting the glass back down on to her desk. She closed her eyes for a moment and reveled in the sweet burning sensation.

Kya opened her eyes to find Nate staring at her intently. He was leaning back against her desk, his whiskey cradled in one hand. His relaxed posture seemed equally forced and natural. Kya really wasn't sure how to explain it, other than to say perhaps he looked like a spring; Still, but ready to snap into action with the slightest provocation.

Trying to act as nonchalant as his posture had set the tone, she leaned up against the desk beside him, putting her hand down on the edge of the wood between them. He immediately followed suit, putting his hand beside hers very closely, but not close enough to touch. Kya could feel the warmth of his skin even without direct contact. She wanted to say something, that proverbial something witty that Nate had mentioned but she was at a sudden loss for words.

This was nothing like being with Loghain.

They'd argued as often as agreed, but they were never at a lack for conversation. Maybe it was because there was no pressure. They'd waited until after the Blight was defeated, when only the short days of their Grey Warden lives were in way of _now_. Between life and death right now there was another army of darkspawn, and this one was almost more frightening because these weren't the mindless animals they fought in Denerim. These things reasoned, considered and screamed their hate like men.

Kya did her best to blame this on the darkspawn, but she knew that was a hollow excuse. It was harder because they were different. Kya was a different woman, and Nate wasn't Loghain. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

"So," she managed weakly, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye. "Do you want good news, bad news or pointless small talk?"

Nate raised an eyebrow at her and took another sip of his drink, wincing a bit as he did. "Well, I'm lousy at small talk," he replied. "And we both know there's no good news."

"There might be some," Kya said, smirking a bit and raising her glass. "But I am certain I will need a lot more of this to come up with something." She looked down at the floor. "So bad news then." She sighed. Was she really going to lay this on him?

It was more than just the darkspawn threatening to crash the keep. It was her guilt, her want and a liberal dose of blood magic. By Andraste's great flaming ass, she ought to just use the Maker damned blood magic on Nate, use him to scratch this infernal  _itch_  and get on with her life.

If only she didn't care about him too. Lust was easy; this was something else.

Nate startled her out of her recriminations with a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, it can't be that sodding bad – unless the archdemon has returned, in human form or something." He chuckled, missing the sudden paleness of Kya's cheeks.

That too; but that was one secret she would keep.

She sighed again, trying to wash Morrigan's image out of her head. "Nothing so interesting, just . . . an army of talking darkspawn about to siege the Amaranthine and not nearly the manpower to safely hold them back."

"That all?" Nate said without missing a beat. "And here I thought it was something serious." He didn't even crack a smile.

"I know, just my female hysteria, I'm sure," Kya replied as dryly as she could manage.

Nate gave her a sly look, quietly appreciating the humor. "So how much time before we end up on the business end of darkspawn blades?" he asked, turning towards her slightly. His hand slid across the polished wood of the desk they leaned against, brushing against hers. He took another long drink from his glass, peering at her over the rim.

"Hard to be certain," she answered. "But from what Varel's scouts can tell, it won't be long." She conspicuously didn't move her hand away from his touch, and mimicked Nate, taking another drink herself. She was reminded of why some people called this stuff fire-water. Not only did it burn on the way down, but it was making her feel delightfully warm. Well, that or how close Nate was standing...either way, this room was damn hot. Kya felt a drunk and was surprised how little alcohol it was taking.

"Beautiful," Nate said, shaking his head. "Never ends, does it?"

Kya shrugged. "At least not until the last of the old gods are gone and we manage to exterminate the darkspawn. Although I must admit, this new development … the talking... it sort of changes things, doesn't it?"

"I don't know that it really does, not unless they decide to try to negotiate, like that odd one in the silverite mine." Nate looked like he was thinking back to the mine. His eyes glazed over a little. "It was actually hard to think of him, that  _Architect_  as a darkspawn. If I wasn't a Warden and knew how their taint feels? I'm not sure I would have believed it."

Kya caught herself watching his hands as he quickly tipped back the rest of his glass. He swallowed smoothly, setting his heavy glass back down on the desk and turning entirely towards her. His every movement was like a dance, slow and sure. Just like the rest of his body, his hands were defined, each bone and sinew moving together under the tautness of his skin. The veins were raised only just a little on his hands, though one snaked boldly across the top of his hand, spiraled around his wrist and crept up the bold expanse of his forearm towards his elbow.

She tore her eyes away from her appreciation of his skin, looking back up at him. She instinctually turned more towards him. "I wonder about that," she admitted. "If some creature offered a truce . . would I turn it away like the good dutiful Grey Warden I ought to be, or would I do what seems like the better idea, and try to avoid more bloodshed?"

"It seems to me you'd do whatever seemed more practical at the time," he replied simply. Perhaps he knew her better than she thought he did. She might have questioned the idea, being hypothetical, but in the moments she'd had choices, she'd always made the  _practical_ choice.

"You sure you don't want to be the commander instead?" she asked, finishing the last of her drink and slipping the glass between them to set it on the desk. They were standing very close together. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. "Because I think you're more sure of me than I am."

He smiled faintly. "I would  _not_  want to try to fill your shoes." He glanced over at their empty glasses. He picked up the decanter and refilled them both, handing her glass back to her. "Big shoes," he said. He took a long drink. "Besides, there are other things of yours I'd be interested in filling," he blurted out and immediately looked horrified. He nearly dropped his glass back on to the desk, some of the pale amber liquid sloshing out. "Maker's ass," he spat out before Kya could even react. "I . . . Andraste . . . I don't know what came over me." He took a quick step back away from me. "Kya . . .  _Commander_  . . . I'm sorry, I . . . ."

Kya hushed him by raising her hand. Her ears felt hot, and she was sure she was flushed. But not from anger or annoyance. The combination of his blunt admission, combined with sudden shyness was incredibly attractive. As if he hadn't already been driving her crazy...

"Nate," she said, taking a step towards him to close the distance he made between them. "Relax." She put her hand on his arm.

It appeared that in all her recrimination, her fear about her desire, she'd never stopped to think about his side of this. Somehow she forgot that he was more than just the object of her interest. He was not just a reminder of Loghain. Despite how similar they were at a glance, he was a man in his own right. Clearly as complicated, but young...and far softer hearted.

She'd never stop loving Loghain, but there was something to be said for a man who wasn't a constant battle.

"Maybe not the most smooth segue into seduction I've heard," she said, smiling and hoping he could see on her face that there was nothing lost here, and maybe something gained. "But it certainly didn't cause any bloodshed."

Nate only relaxed a little, his tension still a bowstring. "Andrastre's blood, I can't believe I said that."

"No harm," Kya chuckled. "You forget I've known Anders since I was a child. Blunt innuendo is marginally less shocking after spending any length of time with him."

"Even so," Nate said, giving his now half empty glass on the table a wary look. "If I didn't know better, I'd think there was something funny in that bottle."

And maybe there was, because Kya certainly felt more drunk than she had even once since taking her Joining. That included the night with Oghren and Anders that lead to Kya weeping into Anders' robes about how much she really wanted to . . . she looked up at Nate, standing there, still tense, still concerned he'd broken something. That night she'd finally said out loud that she desperately wanted to throw herself at Nathaniel Howe, and  _Maker_ , he was standing right there . . . .

Before her brain could stop her, she crossed the short distance between them, putting her hand on his forearm. The skin was as smooth as it looked, like fine brushed, sun-warmed suede. With delicate fingers, she walked along the ridge of muscle there, over the rolled linen at his elbow and up along the swelling of his bicep. Her gaze was riveted on the slow progress of her hand. She heard Nate take a sharp breath.

"Maybe there  _is_ something funny in there," she said, her voice low and intimately quiet. "Because it's certainly having an effect on me as well." Her fingers paused at his shoulder and she cocked her head before sliding them further, venturing from the linen of his shirt to the exposed skin of his neck. Her fingers stepped once, twice, across the hill of his collarbone.

"Or maybe," she continued, as her fingers continued until the pads of her fingers were touching the coarse hair in the hollow between those sharply defined collarbones, her palm slowly coming to rest on his chest. His heart was beating hard enough to feel with even this lightest touch. "Maybe," she said, tilting her face up to meet his pale grey eyes, "...maybe it's just us."

He looked down at her, and she watched with fascination as a myriad of emotions played themselves out in his eyes and in the fine planes and muscles of his face. For a moment, a crease appeared between his eyebrows and then smoothed, and Kya realized just how young and unlined his face was; how long he could stay standing here beside her; how long it just might be before either of them had to go meet that inevitable Grey Warden fate.

There were many, many years before them, if they survived the coming days. And if they didn't? If they didn't, she decided it didn't much matter. Because they were having this moment, and it was one worth taking to the grave.

Then, she didn't think about much of anything, because Nate leaned down and kissed her.

 


	16. Just Let Me

Before he realized what he was doing, Nate had Kya boosted up on her desk, papers flying haphazardly on to the floor. She had one hand tangled in his hair and the other trying to sneak its way under the hem of his shirt. He had her robe hitched up nearly to her waist and he was thinking, or not thinking perhaps, about forgoing any delusions of foreplay. He felt her hand creep around his laterals, along the hill of his hip, right above the waist of his trews. There were insistent fingers trying to untie laces.

She was a trembling, hot little thing under his hands and his brain clearly wasn't working despite everything else was working exceptionally well.

Nate closed his eyes as Kya's other hand reached down to help the first, fluttering fingers working at the knot he had apparently tied a little too vigorously earlier. He took a long deep breath as she took more initiative, her lips traveling down from the edge of his mouth to his chin. He felt the softness of her tongue against the line of his jaw, against the shadow of his stubble.

He wondered if she'd learned this trick from the King or the Hero.

It was a fleeting thought, just a quick stray thing but it was enough to turn the heat in Nate's blood to ice. He felt himself stiffen in her arms, stumbling back and leaving Kya sitting awkwardly on the edge of the desk looking confused and concerned. She frowned.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

And Maker, it wasn't like he just could admit the truth. How did he tell her,  _for a moment there I was just a man and you were just a woman and I forgot who we were - you a commander, a hero, lover of a King and the liberator of all of Ferelden from the occupation. And me, just a fool with a checkered past and an even more dismal future?_

Nate tried to recover his composure. He reached down and re-tied what he could of the tangle of laces on his trews, smoothing the hem of his shirt down to cover the mess of a knot he was sure to have to cut open later. He looked back up at Kya, pulling down a veneer of artificial confidence to cover his self-doubt.

"This is a bad idea." He paused. Swallowed. "I can't be ... I don't have it in me to just  _take comfort_  and move on. Not with you. You're my commander ..." He looked pointedly over Kya's shoulder, refusing to meet her eyes though he could hardly help but notice the way the flush in her cheeks was rising. "I know the Wardens do not prohibit fraternization, but ..." He felt like he was rambling so instead of humiliating himself further, he closed his mouth and forced himself to finally meet Kya's gaze. He had no idea how to read her expression.

Her lips were a pale thin line in her reddened face.

"I, ah, didn't realize you thought this was just a matter  _comfort,_ " Kya said, deadly quiet. But wasn't that what she thought this was? Wasn't that the point? Even Loghain has alluded to such as he left. In Nate's mind, it couldn't be anything but. He couldn't imagine otherwise. But she took a deep breath, letting the tight expression on her face relax as she continued.

"I don't claim to know what's in your head, and I won't use my blood magic to see your thoughts, even though I could. It's wrong." She gave him a little half smile from one corner of her mouth. "I never got the impression that's the kind of person you were; the type to just  _take comfort,_ was it? I can promise it's not who I am. I'm sure it's hard to believe, but loving one person doesn't mean you can't feel anything for anyone else."

Nate turned his back to her quickly. She had this oddly wistful look on her face, and it felt like a knife between his ribs. She didn't understand; she couldn't. Up until now, Nate had lived his life in pursuit of only one thing and it sure as the Black City wasn't love. He's strived to better himself, to change himself, to try to mold himself into a man that might someday make his father proud, despite knowing deep down that he could never do it. Nathaniel Howe wanted to be a good, honorable and worthy man, and he had been delusional enough to think that if he did it right, someday his father might respect him. Up until now, he'd never imagined caring about anything else.

There had been a woman here and there. A lovely thing for a few days in the summer; an elven servant; a sweet thing paid with cold coin...but never anything more. He shielded himself well from even the possibility. It hurt when his parents didn't love him; he couldn't bear even the thought of what any other form of rejection would feel like. He couldn't even look at her; he could feel a hint of what that might be like in the back of his head. It was a darker place than the Deep Roads, and it was somewhere he wasn't sure he had the courage to go.

"Nate, please," she said, her voice still quiet and calm. "Please, look at me."

He shook his head. "I can't," he muttered. "I can't do any of this."

He didn't give her a chance to reply. Of course she would try to stop him. It was what she did; taking in broken stray animals and trying to help them - the drunken dwarf and the 'dead' dwarf, the apostate who was equal measures of sexual deviance and indignation, the possessed corpse even...and himself; thief, assassin,  _pariah._  She would hold him, she would try to put aside the king, the hero; those great men who were her lovers before, she would make love to him and she would think about what a disappointment he was the whole time.

Nate walked away, through the door he hardly remembered opening in his self recrimination, down the stone hall trying to ignore the sound of her soft but determined footsteps behind him. He made his way up the stairs and through the old guard halls, ignoring the pointed looks of the soldiers and servants making their rounds, holding his face in a perfect rictus of inexpression.

A quiet greeting behind him. "Good evening Commander," a man's voice.

"As you were, Harlan," a reply with faint humor, with sadness.

Nate headed through the heavy door out on to the wall. The sky was a riot of color; gold, orange with violet shadowed clouds. The hum of the guard changing; the clang of a blacksmith hammer in the last light of day; the voices of the dwarven masons continuing to fortify the keep. Finally, there was nowhere left to go, unless he leapt off the curtain wall into the courtyard. The little, abandoned child part of his brain encouraged it.

_What's the point? What's the difference between dying without having to face her, or dying on a darkspawn blade? You're a coward anyway. There is no honor available for you. You came here to kill her and only did not because you failed. Delude yourself as much as you want, but you weren't coming to reclaim your heritage. You were coming to kill the Hero of Ferelden to avenge a monster. And now you thought she might want you? You actually thought she might want you for something other than to scratch an itch?_

_Who are you to compare to Loghain Mac Tir or to Alistair Theirin?_

"Nate," Kya said tenderly. He strangled the little voice into silence. "Please." She was pleading with him. The voice threatened a comment, but he stamped it out. Slowly, he turned to face her.

"I don't know what you want from me," he managed, fighting to keep the tone of his voice even and cool.

"I don't want anything  _from_  you," she replied. She looked to be struggling a bit herself. "I just want  _you._ "

"I find that hard to believe," he snapped, more harshly than he intended. She recoiled but he persisted. "Look, I understand this whole 'about to die and lets be alive' business. But I just  _can't_. I...feel...more than I should. It's not my way to let emotions get in the way of what I have to do. So it's better to not ..."

"Nathaniel," she interrupted him. The tone of her voice negated even the idea of continuing. She closed the distance between them. She looked like she was going to touch him, but then she thought better of it. She sat down on the wall instead. "We've been here before, haven't we? Up here on the wall, dancing around what's really on your mind?"

"About my father, you mean?" he asked, already knowing the answer. She nodded but kept her mouth shut. It was his cue to be honest, but it wasn't coming easy. He wasn't used to dealing with his own inadequacy. Usually, he just worked harder, longer, more diligently to overcome it. There wasn't a practice range for this sort of thing. He sighed, feeling an equal amount of trepidation and stupidity.

"It's the same thing, really if I'm to be honest," he admitted.

"I prefer honesty," she commented. "I am a lot of things, but dishonest isn't one of them."

"I know," he replied, realizing it was the truth. "I am so used to treachery that I am not sure how to deal with it. Or with you."

She chuckled. "That is not the first time I've heard that." Her smile fell and she was serious again. She looked up at him carefully, willfully. If he didn't know better, he would have thought she was using blood magic, because it certainly felt like she reached out and grabbed hold of him with her gaze.

Instead of fleeing as the derogatory voice in his head was screaming at him to do, he slowly knelt down in front of her. He tilted his face up to look at her. Somehow this position felt safer, less likely to make a fool of himself if she managed to put him more off balance than he already was.

"I'm not afraid of darkspawn or death," he said. "But you scare the shit out of me."

"Why?" she asked with perfect confusion. She really didn't know, did she? How could she not know?

"I...can't believe you wouldn't know why," he started. The mere idea of admitting his own failings so openly horrified him, but there was no other way out of this. If it was honesty she wanted, he supposed he could provide. "You do realize you are the 'Hero of Ferelden' right?"

Kya rolled her eyes. "So they tell me. Last I checked I was just an orphan apostate, trying not get killed." She sighed. "But do go on."

Nate wondered if he looked as sheepish as he felt. "It seems to me that I'm...you do know I was never really in line to take my father's place as Arl?"

"You might have mentioned that," she replied. "Not that I think that matters..." He cut her off.

"It matters," he said quickly. He wasn't sure how to continue. He was trying to avoid this; he tried to walk away and make this into what it ought to be; commander and warden and he'd let go of his dead father and she'd keep thinking about her dead lover...and Andraste, even his brain was rambling. This is why he'd learned to be close-lipped and had earned his reputation for being uncommunicative. It was well deserved, if not for the right reasons.

He was terrible at this, but Kya was looking at him expectantly, so he needed to come up with something.

"I could give you a long list of reasons why this is a bad idea," he finally said. "But in the end, the only reason that's important is that I can't stand in Loghain's shadow. I stood in my father's shadow for so long...it was a cold, painful place to be, not measuring up to what was expected of me. If I only wanted one night with you to celebrate being alive? I wouldn't care. But I..." And here was the worst of it. Laying his chest open in front of her, displaying his heart like a prize. Whatever soft emotions he had were about to be crushed into less than a memory. "But I'm an idiot, and I wouldn't be happy with that. It wouldn't be enough."

Kya looked down at him, blinked a few times. The tip of her tongue escaped between her lips for a moment and disappeared again.

"I could lie to you," she said, leaning forward a little. "But I don't do that. I'm not going to tell you that Loghain didn't matter; that he doesn't matter. Because he always will. Short though that was, it changed my life. He changed  _me_. But he's gone, and I'm not going to waste what life I have hoping that feeling terrible and lonely and bitter is going to change that." She cocked her head, and Nate felt like she was gauging him, trying to read where his head was going with her words. On his part, there was a buzzing behind his rib cage and a strange stinging in the back of his neck, but overall, he felt like he was holding up pretty well. Kya seemed to come to the same conclusion, and she continued.

"It's not my place to tell you why, but the truth is, Loghain spent most of his life being resentful and lonely and bitter. It's what made him into the dark creature he became. Maybe it's why his paranoia overtook his logic during the Blight and he let the things happen...that happened. It's no excuse, and if he was here he wouldn't offer it as one. But it ruled his life and made him miserable." She smiled a little. "Then I came along. I refused to let him dash himself on the rocks. He offered to die for me and instead of me several times. As hard as it may be to believe, he also tried to run away. And every time I told him; letting the guilt over a wasted life make him waste what time he had left? Well, wouldn't that just be the most delicious irony? And for once in his contrary life, he listened to council. Loghain gave himself a chance to be happy. Just for a little while, true, but he was finally happy and free from the grasp of all his skeletons. He couldn't forgive, but he could move on with his life."

She reached out and tucked a loose piece of hair behind Nate's ear. She moved with such self assurance that it didn't even hit him how strange that felt until her hand was back in her own lap again.

"Before he left, he made me promise I'd learn from his mistakes. He made me promise I wouldn't be a fool and pine my life away, wishing for something I could never have. He...," she chuckled a bit, " _Gave me permission_ to move on with my life and steal what small happiness I could from this Grey Warden existence."

She looked down at her hands for a moment, twisting her fingers in her lap. It was only a moment, but it seemed like an eternity as Nate watched the play of her pale skin against the faded red of her robes.

"Please Nate," she said, looking back up at him. "Just let me..." She paused, looking so lost Nate hardly knew what to do with himself.

She was right.

Kya was right about everything. It occurred to him that she was, hero or not, a very young woman who had lived outside the mage circle for less than three years. How she got to be so sodding wise, he had no idea. But he was damn glad for it.

"Maker," he sighed. "I hope you're right."

"I am," she replied. "I just want you to believe me. I don't need...I don't need what was about to happen in my office, Nate. I need  _you_ ; I need someone to have my back. Someone I can trust that won't run off half cocked for some reason or another. I wish you...I wish you would just let me love you."

All the bones seemed to disappear from under his skin. Nate was immeasurably grateful that he was on his knees. Of all the things he'd expected, even hoped for her to say?

"I," he started and stopped. He looked back up at her and swallowed hard as her hands came up slowly to cradle the sides of his face. He leaned into her touch, moving forward until his chest was against her knees, her lips soft against his forehead. He felt the warmth of her breath ruffle his hair and saw the last of the flaming sunset through his eyelids.

"I'll try."


	17. Black, White and Grey

Amaranthine was burning.

Kya ran with purpose back towards the Vigil with Nate on her heels and Anders and Oghren lagging behind. She tried to focus on the task at hand – the bulk of the Mother's forces (whatever in the Black City she actually was, and Maker's furry ass if Kya really didn't want to know) were headed to Vigil's Keep. The attack on Amaranthine had been a diversion. But the cracking of burning timbers, the screaming, and the stench of scorched flesh behind them? It spoke otherwise. It said diversion or no, there was nothing left.

Thank Andraste's good luck that Nate had insisted his sister and her husband leave the city. They were safely on their way to Denerim, household in tow. Kya couldn't even consider the alternative – adding the screams of Delilah Howe and her unborn child to the din she couldn't block out, even as the distance increased between her ears and the city walls.

No matter the horror, Kya didn't have time for guilt. Though there were many lives lost behind those walls, there were nearly as many at the Vigil who were not expecting the coming onslaught. She knew she really couldn't beat the darkspawn to the gates, but she was damn well going to try. Despite his anger at her decision to allow Amaranthine's destruction, she felt the soft touch of Anders' magic wash over her, reinvigorating her flagging energy. She knew he was going to give her an earful the moment he had the chance, but thankfully he had the good sense to not try it now.

She heard the change in Nate's breathing too, clearly Anders magic was revitalizing him as well. He managed to pick up his pace until he was running alongside her, instead of behind. He shot her a look; worried and determined, then punctuated their unspoken communication with a nod, turning his focus back towards keeping one leg moving after the other.

She saw her own stamped down emotions reflected in his quick glance. He wasn't a heartless beast any more than she was, despite opinions to the contrary. But he had her back at the gates of Amaranthine, as Anders shrieked in horror. It was the way of things – unless you were larger than life, like Maric the Savior or Calenhad himself, even the greatest deeds could be overshadowed by failures. Kya was the Hero of Ferelden, but the death of the tribe of Dalish, the death of the people of Amaranthine; these things were sure just to add fuel to the fire of the rumors swirling around her. Her collusion with Loghain certainly did her no favors either. Even with truth at their core, the rumors she was a maleficarum, a witch; evil and selfish and bloodthirsty? If there were survivors from Amaranthine, they would hardly be singing her praises, even if she managed to survive the coming horrors.

Hard decisions, indeed.

They came barreling through the gate to the Vigil, the heavy doors creaking closed behind them, just in front of the rampaging army of darkspawn. It was hardly a horde – nothing like the writhing mass that had descended on Denerim at the end of the Blight, but there was a special terror to these. There was the gleam of intelligence in their bulging eyes and in the curling sneers of their lip-less mouths. Fighting waves of mindless beasts was like fighting the tide – once you found your stride, you could weather them. But these? They were as organized as any human army, and twice as terrifying with their tainted blood spilling and turning the earth to blacked ash.

Between the darkspawn and the innocents of the Vigil and the rest of Ferelden beyond there were only five living Grey Wardens. And one dead one, in the form of Justice, but Kya was never entirely sure where his loyalties lay or even if the taint in his blood would be of any real use. He was an anomaly who's influence she could see starting to wear on Anders. But that was a completely separate disaster she didn't have time to contemplate now.

All she could do now was scream orders, gesticulate wildly and try to look like she had some idea what she was doing. She had watched Loghain bark orders at recruits, and she found herself mimicking his cool efficiency in times like this. She also found herself missing him desperately at times like these, if only for his military expertise. It helped more than she even realized to have Nate's steady presence at her back. He wasn't about to go shouting orders and take the responsibility away from her as Loghain often had, but he wasn't about to contradict her – as Loghain also had. There was something to be said for unwavering cooperation.

Varel efficiently took her barked orders, relaying them quickly, sending archers and mages to the curtain wall, swordsmen in the inner courtyard, brutes with clubs and more muscles than sense to the gates. Despite the seeming chaos, everyone had a mission and they were quick to fulfill it. She knew she was hardly universally loved, but at least she was respected. Sometimes that was the better place to be in. Once upon a time, King Cailan might have benefited from that fact.

As it was, he was gone, and it was once again only Kya's band of merry misfits between Ferelden and destruction. This was becoming a familiar situation she was entirely sure she could do without.

It felt like it was over before it even began. The clash of battle had come so quickly, the ogres breaking through the gates like they were made of paper, bodies, blood and spells, arrows and screams flew through the air. Kya couldn't recall any specific actions she'd taken. If someone had asked her what spell she'd used to fell the ogre with the helmet, or more horribly the wickedly intelligent Hurlock that had run his sword through Varel? She wouldn't have been able to answer.

She did know what spots of blood on her armor belonged to her now deceased seneschal. Those were stains she would not soon forget. He'd been unwaveringly loyal to her, never questioning her orders and being like the father of the Vigil. His death had left a gaping hole. It also spurred her anger when word came as the last of the wounded darkspawn were being dispatched that the Lair of the Mother had been found. Scouts had followed the retreating darkspawn to a gash in the earth where they disappeared back into the Deep Roads. And the sounds and smells they described? It made it clear the Mother was exactly what Kya had feared.

A broodmother. The mere thought turned her blood to ice. She did what she could to contain her fear as the scouts completed their reports. She sent them on their way to the healers and the baths, trying to wrap her head around what was to come. A part of her wanted to use some of Dworkin's explosives to just collapse the entrance to the Mother's lair, and then run away to Orlais or Antiva or the Maker forsaken Tevinter Empire and just forget she was a Grey Warden.

Of course, the Mother wouldn't let a few tons of rubble stop her; Kya knew this fair well. She'd just send her minions to dig, or to search for another way to surface. Even if that Architect creature was lying, even if everything the supposedly _friendly_ darkspawn had told her was false, clearly the Mother wanted nothing but carnage. The issue of speech aside, she was still a darkspawn.

There was just the matter of who she would take with her, since there was nowhere far enough to run away. As much as a part of her wanted to protect him, she knew Nate wouldn't be left behind, even if this was suicide mission. And Grey Wardens had to be the ones – but Maker she hated to admit it, but she couldn't trust Anders; not after his outburst at Amaranthine. It wasn't the first time he'd disagreed with her, far from, but it was the first time he almost took action to stop her. She was convinced it was only the knowledge that both Nate and Oghren would have defended her that stayed his hand. Loyalty and friendship were in his heart certainly, but in the end, Anders was an extremist. When it came to his own code of morality, he wasn't to be swayed. In matters of affection he was free as a wild animal, but in matters of ethics? There was no grey in Anders' world, except in the title he now had before his name. The world was black and white – the circle was wrong and so was letting people die if there was any chance to save them, no matter how slim. Well, except for templars. He seemed nearly gleeful when they'd been forced to cut down that group of them on Anders' mad quest for his phylactery.

Anders  _had_  taken the place Jowan had in her heart, it was true, and Kya remembered vividly how well that had gone. He had to stay behind.

For the same reasons, she also knew she could not take Justice, as useful as his blade would be down there. She worried at the idea of leaving him alone with Anders – especially if something went wrong, but she didn't seem to have a lot of good choices here. And perhaps with all the injured to care for, Anders would be too busy to spend much time discussing politics and morality with the dead man.

So the choice was made for her, Nate, Oghren and Sigrun would follow her into the bowels of the earth, and hopefully not to their deaths. Maker, how many times had she done this – taken people she had the audacity to call friend or even lover, and put them into mortal danger? This was not what she had in mind when she happily followed Duncan from Kinloch.

If she could go back in time, she wondered if she'd just kick him between the legs, cast a glyph of paralysis and scurry off into the Korcari Wilds to fend for herself. Or instead maybe she'd thank him for in a roundabout way, helping her find the people she'd come to care about more than any before in her life? And not only those she expected; Alistair, Loghain, Nathaniel but the rest as well, Sigrun and Oghren, despite misgivings Anders and Justice, Zevran, Sten, Leliana, Wynne,  _Morrigan._ They were her only family. Her family name was Amell, but that was all she knew of her blood. Instead these mismatched creatures, human, elf and qunari; they were the closest thing she'd ever known to a real family.

This was the worst part of the fight in her mind, this tiny calm as they prepared to walk into the maelstrom. It would take two days travel – like a normal person with sleep and such to make it there. Kya expected Grey Wardens could do it in a day, with a short rest after dark tonight. So with no fanfare and less preparation, Kya led them out. She could almost feel Anders eyes boring into the back of her head.

Anders was like a sort of external conscience and maybe that was something she lacked from time to time. But now wasn't the time for second guessing or foolishness. That would have her end up like Duncan, who in her mind, let sentiment get in the way of common sense when he put the Grey Wardens in the King's hands. Even now that the King of Ferelden  _was_  a Grey Warden, she wasn't about to let him call the shots. That bit of Grey Warden legacy over rode everything, even former entanglements. Alistair might think her contrary behavior was just a function of awkward bitterness, but it went deeper than that. Putting him on the throne and this  _temporary_ post as Arlessa were the last forays into politics this Grey Warden ever intended. When this was over, she was going to have a nice long talk with the King and she was going to tell him right where he could stuff his arling.

Nate took up his newly customary place at her side as they put the Vigil behind them again, Oghren and Sigrun following closely behind. The two dwarves had become nearly inseparable. They seemed to have an understanding of one another, something Kya had never really seen in the short time Oghren had been with his wife. She wondered if maybe she was too hard on him when she snapped at him about Felsi. Maybe it was really like what had happened with Alistair. She loved him, she wouldn't deny it, but they were oil and water. Love and attraction aside, they would never understand each other, and that was as important as any other trait a lover needed to have.

Oghren and Sigrun seemed to understand each other, and had fallen into a strange little harmony – Kya didn't understand the words, but she recognized the tune as Leliana would have said. How odd was it that the bard hopped into her head now. Her thoughts were uncharacteristically jumbled, jumping around and trying desperately to ignore how her heart was all in knots more because of the man walking beside her than the concept of impending death.

Madness and a great way to get killed, that was. She glanced over at him, catching him doing the same thing. He looked mildly embarrassed, but only smirked and moved a bit closer to her. The backs of their hands conveniently brushed together for a few strides before they gave up the pretense and linked their fingers together. Kya heard Oghren's gruff chuckle from behind them and it didn't bother her, not even one bit.


	18. Bannorn in the Spring, or Blood Magic

They finally surrendered to exhaustion after walking for more than seven hours. It was well past midnight and the gibbous moon had crept past its zenith and was heading back down towards the horizon. They didn't bother with much of a camp, just a little fire Kya conveniently lit with a spell. That particular trick made Nate wonder why she'd let them blather around with flint and tinder, but then again, Kya did have a bit of perverse streak.

This place was called the Dragonbone Wastes. Being as close to Vigil's Keep as it was, Nate had heard about it as a child. Unlike Blackmarsh however, he'd never heard stories about this place, no matter how fantastical the name. It was one of those places that almost seemed too sacred and too powerful to disturb even with a tale. It was the ancient death grounds of dragons – rumored to be where dragons went when they knew they were dying. How much truth there was in that, Nate didn't know, but at the edges of the flickering light, bones of what only could have been dragons were bathed in faded gold and orange from the fire. It was an eerie place, thought he supposed the bones of dragons were far preferable to the real thing. He could feel some darkspawn somewhere, the taint quietly humming in his blood, but they weren't near enough to be of particular concern.

Kya offered to take the first watch and Nate hoped it would offer them an opportunity to talk, or at least try to get used to the idea of one another's company before they plunged into the abyss. Unfortunately the privacy they found wasn't nearly as private as Nate had been hoping for. Oghren and Sigrun disappeared behind a boulder just outside of the light of their fire, leaving them alone,  _sort of_.

The sounds emanating from the two dwarves reminded Nate of spring on the bannorn, specifically when the cattle were breeding. It sort of threw off his stride, especially when Kya looked to be on the verge of swallowing her own tongue. Nate glanced over at her out of the corner of his eye, noting that her ears were red and her eyes suspiciously merry, despite what was soon to come. It was painful to admit, but the combination of sighs, grunts and a moist sound that truly defied description, along with the mental image he was trying to block out? It was a damn fine distraction from impending doom.

"So," Kya snickered, catching him looking over at her. "How about those darkspawn? They really are lovely this time of year."

Nate barked a laugh involuntarily, slapping his hand over his mouth. The sounds from behind the rock stopped for a moment, were punctuated by a giggle and then resumed in earnest and with more volume. Kya raised an eyebrow at him wryly, but her smile didn't last.

He thought perhaps he understood where her mind went. Nate wondered if they shouldn't find a rock of their own to hide behind, but the idea of culminating  _this_  in the dirt somewhere just didn't seem right. Either they were going to die down in the Deep Roads and it wasn't going to matter, or they were going to live and then? Of course, on the other hand,  _if they died_  it wouldn't matter where and it might matter that it hadn't…Maker's blood. This was the sort of thinking that kept him away from women who didn't require coin for their companionship for the majority of his life. This thing was more than he could manage to wrap his head around.  _Wanting_  Nate understood, but this went so far beyond  _want_ to border on  _need;_  he hardly knew what to do with himself.

He fixated his attention on his hands and wished he had something to distract himself with. Maybe that's why those fighters who carried great swords were forever polishing the things. That thought led Nate's brain in a direction he hadn't intended; sword polishing became something entirely less appropriate. Even worse, his mind supplied an incredibly detailed mental image involving Kya and his room back at the Keep to go along with it. He felt heat creep up the back of his neck. Despite the cool air, a drop of sweat rolled down his spine, pooling uncomfortably at his tailbone. Apparently the symphony (wasn't that a grand metaphor for dwarves  _fucking_ ) from outside the firelight was having more an impact on him than he thought.

He looked up at Kya again, wanting to commiserate with her, to admit his thoughts, his feelings – if he could manage to sort them out, that was. But the expression on her face stopped him and made that sweat suddenly feel cold and clammy. Her eyes had a blank faraway expression and her cheeks were pale. The dwarves fell silent only moments later, just as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"Darkspawn," Kya whispered, slowly drawing to her feet, grabbing her sword from the ground beside her. Nate heard the distinctive sound of her sword sliding from its scabbard and the clink of armor plates as Oghren and Sigrun quickly dressed themselves. Sigrun appeared first, looking rumpled but any embarrassment was washed away by resolution. They had a job to do.

Nate managed to get his bow and quiver just as the small group appeared through the fog. There were only seven or eight; hurlocks and genlocks. They had that particular dull gleam that the usual darkspawn had – mindless. Nate never thought he'd be happy to see unthinking monsters running at him with naked blades, but then again, there were a lot of things he never expected.

Kya's sharp intake of breath startled Nate back into focus. He saw a line of blood well up on the back of her arm, rivulets of blood streaking and then spiraling down her arm. He felt the strange waver as her magic field encompassed him. He nocked an arrow and loosed it. The arrow imbedded itself in the neck of the lead Hurlock who fell to the ground with a gurgle. A bolt of violet lightning flashed from Kya's hands, sending two of the genlocks into convulsions.

Despite their quick reaction, the darkspawn had gotten close, too close. Nate stumbled back, as the noxious smell of hurlock and death hit him. He made to bash at it using his bow like a club, but before he could react one of Sigrun's daggers seemed to sprout out of its head. As he turned to thank her, he heard Kya scream. He whipped his head around, seeing the long gash open up the side of her robes on the wicked black length of the remaining hurlock's blade. The creature looked gleeful but its pleasure lasted only for a moment. Kya's high pitched shriek was drowned out by the keening of the hurlock.

There was a swirl in the air around them; a red  _shimmering_ as her magic attacked the darkspawn. The beast lifted up on to his toes as if it was being held by some invisible hand. Its skin seemed to ripple with veins, the blood splitting through the surface in so many places Nate couldn't keep track. It was as if its blood was boiling and maybe it was. Nate could hear the dwarves finishing off the genlocks, and knew his attention should be with them, despite how they seemed to be handling the situation well without him. He was completely fixated on watching Kya's magic tear the hurlock apart from the inside out.

The hurlock's baying became a whimper and then a gurgle as black ichor bubbled up through its lips. Kya saw it too and severed the magical connection, allowing the thing to collapse into a heap. She wobbled a little, but kept her feet. She was as pale as a corpse and just as calm. Nate on the other hand felt a lot more unsettled. He'd never seen anything like that before. She used magic often enough and he knew from Anders constant complaints that Kya had blood magic in her repertoire. What he hadn't seen was any real difference between her magic fueled by blood and her magic fueled by...whatever it was that mages used. Mana, lyrium, something. This was the first magic she'd done in his presence that was what he would have expected from the infamous  _blood magic._

"Neat trick," Sigrun piped up before Nate found his voice. "Too bad dwarves can't do magic. That really looks handy."

"It's useful," Kya said wryly, looking a bit surprised at Sigrun's reaction. "Not my first choice in a fight, but I wasn't really ready. Not caught with my pants down to the extent you were." She chuckled a bit and then winced, touching her side gingerly.

Clearly she'd expected more of the horror that Nate knew his face was showing. It was easy to forget Kya was a mage, especially since she fought more often in armor with a sword than slinging spells. Granted, he knew it was her magic that powered the strength behind her blade, but it was easy to put out of his mind. Like most Fereldan's, Nate wasn't entirely comfortable with magic. And this  _was_  worse, since blood magic was the one thing the Chantry always said was unforgivable; the cause of the darkspawn and the Blights. Which if it was true, was an odd choice for a Grey Warden, and Nate knew from history that Kya was hardly the first blood mage in the Grey Warden ranks. In the end, none of that really mattered. Nate didn't care much for the Chantry or their ilk. He had to admit that this was a child's reaction to the unknown. It was even more disturbing in truth, because it was coming from a woman Nate was fair certain he was falling in love with.

_Maker help him._

"Well," was all he could manage. Not that he supposed himself particularly eloquent, but this was a bit beneath his usual wit. "That was surprising."

Kya frowned. "It's always my last resort," she said quietly. "But one more step and I would have had grey iron in my lungs." She grimaced. "Speaking of…." She glanced down at her side again, the slash in the worn red fabric, the spreading stain of her own blood. Nate wondered how he managed to ignore her injury, just because she used some unexpected magic to save herself. After all, what was she supposed to do? Pray? Hope the Maker himself would appear out of the Fade to intervene?

Nathaniel Howe always prided himself on being practical. Where exactly had his practicality gone? Kya did what she had to, just as when he poisoned his arrows and his daggers. He was a fine one to judge her. He mentally slapped himself upside the head and went to her. Prepared as always, he had a gauze bandage pressed to the wound to stop the bleeding while she recovered enough to heal herself.

"I…," he started to say and stopped. He just did his best to look sorry and sheepish instead. She seemed to accept his unspoken apology.

"I think I may have finally destroyed these robes beyond repair," Kya said quietly, looking down at the mangled mess of her robes. "I wore these all through the Blight; I wore them at Ostagar."

"You may be right," he had to agree. "Maybe it's time for something new. Some of those fur and feather trimmed Chasind style like that elf had?"

Kya smirked at him. "You mean the ones that show cleavage to my navel and my legs all the way to my waist?"

He grinned in reply. "I can think of worse things."

"You're a pervert," she said, her voice low and sly.

"Am I now?" He cocked an eyebrow at her.

She shrugged. "I'll have to test my theory." She didn't wait for him this time. She'd been hesitant to touch him for more than a quick brush of hair or tentative fingers. Battle wore her uncertainty away, it seemed. Or maybe it was his quick acceptance of her magic and who she was. He was rather proud of himself for that after all; maybe she was too. She leaned in close and kissed him, not even stopping when she sent a wave of magic over them both healing both her wounds and his.

It tickled a little.

 


	19. Grey and Golden

"You lied to me," Kya snarled into the darkness.

"I told you not to trust him," Sigrun intoned in a self-righteous voice. Kya swung her head around to glare at her. She almost lunged forward, forgetting bonds of friendship and Grey Warden camaraderie. But Sigrun didn't back down, despite seeing what Kya's magic had done to the smoking ruin of the broodmother. Finally grabbing hold of her sanity, Kya took a step back.

Of course, Sigrun  _had_  warned her and Kya knew she should do better at controlling her temper, dead darkspawn and pools of blood notwithstanding. The dwarf had not been happy when Kya had agreed to work with the Architect, instead of dispatching him. Honestly, it had almost become a fight – Sigrun had pulled her weapon and Kya saw in her eyes that she was ready to fight Kya to do what she thought was right. It was only Oghren's quick reaction time that stopped the blade from flying and eventual return to sense on Sigrun's own behalf that saved her life. She was angry and she might never forgive Kya for sparing the Architect, but Legion of the Dead or not, suicide was pointless. She had to have realized that's what it was – even if Kya hadn't killed her, Nate certainly would have.

But the Mother was dead now and the Architect was gone and it was too late to change it now. Kya almost felt pity for the bloated thing; as if just being a mindless Broodmother, stinking of offal and spitting out darkspawn wasn't bad enough. She was madness personified, intended to be a mindless beast, suddenly regained of her senses. Once upon a time, the Mother had been a woman, a human woman. Maybe, she hadn't been so different from Kya – it stood to reason the darkspawn with magic had to have gotten it from somewhere. Wasn't a mage broodmother the most likely reason? It was a horrifying thought Kya did her best to push away. Now Kya stood staring angrily into the nothingness of the Deep Roads, knowing this Architect thing could hear her but was refusing to respond.

It was the Architect's fault; the Blight. It was his meddling that woke the Archdemon. It was his... _fault._..though Kya was having an oddly hard time blaming him. She'd never been terribly political in anything, despite being raised in the tower, hotbed of dissension that it was. But Anders...Maker, he was always going on about the plight of mages and Kya couldn't help but see the parallels. It wasn't the darkspawn's fault, even if she believed what the Chantry said. They themselves were just victims of a curse, and was it really so wrong to want to free them?

The thought was somewhat disturbing. She was a Grey Warden after all. It was her job to  _exterminate_  darkspawn. Her skin crawled when they were near her and maybe it was a sign she should go on her own Calling, but damned if she didn't feel sorry for them. In the distance, she heard a scratching sound that snapped her back to attention, followed by a familiar soft voice.

"I understand why you do not trust me," the architect's slippery and disembodied voice said. "It is for the same reason that I could not trust you with the truth. Whether you believe further is your choice." His voice had a metallic echo, as if he was inside a metal dome. "But I will continue to help you, if you will not impede what we must do. I will keep my brethren from ... plaguing you if only to protect them. For now...but do not mistake me," he paused with a tone of utter finality. "I will not allow you to end us. We deserve to exist as much as you."

And then he was gone. Kya knew there was no point in replying, and she was too busy trying to swallow her heart to say anything. Whatever pity she felt had been quickly drowned by fear. The Architect was determined to find a way to set the darkspawn free, and she had let him live. Maker,  _what had she done?_  Kya's brain was reeling. No one spoke in the eerie silence and the only sound was a faintly wet sound of the broodmother's blood dripping from her corpse to the stones below.

It was Sigrun who gathered herself to speak first. Perhaps she could read the expression on Kya's face, but her tone was far less accusatory than Kya would have expected.

"Come on," she said finally. "Let's get out of here before the smell kills us. We can talk about how stupid you are later."

Kya closed her eyes and took a breath, pursing her lips. Andraste preserve her, but she wanted to plant the hilt of her sword into that smug little dwarf's face. She would have thought that by now, these moronic, idiotic  _cretins_  would have known better than to keep poking at her. Despite her best efforts to tamp it down, even Kya herself could smell the waft of copper through the stench of the darkspawn ichor. Her vision swam. Her mind provided images to match of both blood and steel.

Her hand moved, just a hairsbreadth, when she felt a firm calloused palm wrap around her wrist. Kya automatically jerked her arm against the pressure, but the grip held fast.

"Kya," Nate's voice was an anchor against the waves of her temper. Her arm went limp.

"Yes, my idiocy is a topic for a different venue," Kya said, doing her best to keep her tone cool and even. Kya almost expected Sigrun to look pleased, but she just looked angry and…perhaps  _betrayed_  was the best word for it. Kya couldn't blame her. After all, the dwarf had lost all her compatriots to the darkspawn and now her new commander was making deals with them? Kya wasn't entirely sure she was even going to be able to explain it away to herself, now that the immediate threat was gone.

"Just go," Kya said, gesturing forward with the hand not in Nate's grasp. "I'll catch up."

Oghren gave her a nod and he quickly ushered Sigrun ahead of him. If anyone had told Kya that  _Oghren_  was going to become someone she could so depend on when she met him in Orzammar? She would have never believed it.

She watched them go with an odd expression on her face. There was a part of her that was jealous of the dwarves' casual relationship. Oghren made it clear he would never marry again – that Felsi was his last one – even if he'd left her. The Joining was more about that for him than anything else. And with Sigrun? In her mind, she was already dead. This thing between them was no different than a good meal or a cold ale; just a physical pleasure in a life with no other desires.

Kya turned to look at Nate over her shoulder. His hand was still firmly around her wrist, but at the touch of her eyes, his grip loosened a little, though he still didn't let go.

"You too," she said. She didn't want him to go, but Maker if he didn't deserve something better. "Go. Please."

"No." It wasn't so much an answer as a statement of fact. The look in his eyes made it clear he wasn't about to walk away. "I'm not leaving you here."

He had a point with that. In the state she was in, Kya was as likely to walk deeper in than back out again. She'd made so many  _questionable_ choices; she hardly knew where to begin. Some she'd made peace with, but others seemed to rear up again and again. This business with the Architect made it abundantly clear that she wasn't suited to be Commander of even a group of rowdy school children and certainly not leader of the Ferelden Grey Wardens. Maybe she ended the Blight, but only by making a decision that might put this one to shame.

What exactly was Morrigan's baby going to be?

She'd clung to Morrigan's friendship so fiercely; she'd trusted her too much perhaps. And there was no way that wasn't going to come back to bite her and possibly everyone else in the ass. And now, she may have ended the fifth Blight but she'd just set loose a creature capable of starting the sixth.

"I don't know what you are thinking, but just  _don't_." Nate's voice was calm but firm. "Let's get away from here. The taint is so strong here  _I_  can hardly think; I can only imagine what it's doing to you."

Kya didn't want to believe it. This wasn't the taint; this was guilt, well and surely deserved. She was so tired, so drained – the only way she could get away from him would be tapping his blood to fuel herself. She thought about it for a moment, actually imagined herself draining his life force and the immediately hated herself for it.

She turned her face away, unable to look at him after...after what sort of a horrible person was she? By Andraste, had she really had that atrocious thought? What sort of sick person thought of such a thing? She shuddered and pulled her wrist out of his hand. She took a few stumbling steps back and put her hand up like a ward as he moved toward her.

"Fine, I'll go," she said quickly. "Just don't. I...," she stammered a little. "Just don't touch me. Please. It's not safe."

Nate's brow furrowed at that, but he didn't press the issue.

"After you," he nodded, slinging his bow over his shoulder.

Kya didn't bother to hold her head up and pretend she felt strong. There was no one left to fool; not even herself.

The sky was grey outside and it was just beginning to drizzle, which was only fitting. Oghren and Sigrun had taken Kya's order seriously. She could see they had been there from the footprints that the rain was beginning to tamp down in the dust but there was no sign of them now. Their footprints led up and out of the valley, back towards the Vigil and life.

She stopped just outside the entrance of the ruin, glancing out over the bleached bones of the dragons, watching as the mist changed the brilliant white to a shade of glossy golden grey. It made them seem less like bones and more like carved bits of limestone. Maybe that's all they were after all, just oddly shaped bits of stone. It wouldn't be the first time the world looked and saw something that wasn't as it appeared. Sometimes, the myth of a place was powerful enough to overcome sense and everything else.

And maybe, sometimes a darkspawn that spoke might really just want to be free. Wasn't that what all living things wanted after all? She wouldn't let this Architect start another Blight, but that didn't mean she had to murder him for making a mistake. Kya immediately made a decision that she wasn't just going to let Morrigan be gone without a word. Kya was going to find her and make sure her child –  _Loghain's child_  – wasn't going to destroy the world. Knowing Morrigan, likely the child would just have bad manners. Kya smiled a bit at the thought of a child with her friend's acerbic mouth planted into an angelic face with Loghain's eyes.

Kya could feel the anger fading now and Maker bless him, but Nate was right about the taint influencing her thoughts. She began to feel like herself again – no second guessing herself. Mistakes? Well, they were as inevitable as the sun. But it did scare her a little, seeing how the taint had influenced her. She thought she was stronger than this. Maybe there was more than one reason to go see Morrigan. Her friend knew more about the taint and the darkspawn and about blood magic than she'd let on. Kya knew that now. It was possible...anything was possible.

If she'd only known what this taint was going do to her; if she'd known how it was going to twist her up and soak her in blood...to be entirely honest, Kya probably would have done everything  _exactly the same way_. She took a deep breath and turned just as Nate appeared out of the shadowed mouth of the ruin behind her.  _Exactly the same way_  or she wouldn't have had this amazing life she'd had so far.

Nate's words came back to her in a rush.

_Look, maybe you don't realize this, because it's come so easy for you, but most of us don't get loved at all. And you . . ._ **_Maker_ ** _. . . the King of Ferelden and the Hero of River Dane loved you. Don't you get it? Not everyone gets those sort of chances. You got loved. Maybe you should think about that instead._

He wasn't just gorgeous, apparently.

Nate cocked his head at her, trying to gauge her somewhat bewildering expression. He took a few steps out into the open and glanced up at the sky, squinting against the fine mist. The droplets were obvious against the dark of his hair, giving him an odd halo of sorts from the disheveled strands that had escaped from under his braids during the battle.

He smiled a little, deciding apparently that Kya was no longer on the verge of going mad. If only he realized that she was starting to feel crazy in a different way, now that the oppressive voice of the taint was muted and the stone was under her feet instead of over her head.

"Nate, I," she started the sentence but wasn't sure how to continue. It was never this hard before – and maybe more than anything that was because unlike those before, as Nate so aptly put it  _the King of Ferelden and the Hero of River Dane_ , Kya always knew those were never going to be more than temporary.

It was only true of course that life itself was only temporary, especially for a Grey Warden, but this was different. They were  _young_  together. There was no titles, no lands, no heroic deeds standing between them. After this, what they chose to do was their own.

Kya had to see Morrigan, true, and Nate? She knew he would want to do what he could to redeem his name and undo the stain his father had placed on it. But these were  _their_ choices. Whatever came now, they would decide on their own and duty and guilt and everything else could be damned right to the Black City where they belonged.

"Once, you told me something really wise," Kya said finally, the ghost of a smile creeping into her eyes. "You said,  _some of us don't get loved,_ and I'm sure you meant yourself." She shook her head with merry eyes as she took the few steps to touch him. The furrow between his eyebrows was there again, encouraging her to continue. "And you know, it is true. Some people don't get loved and I can't even imagine how sad that must be. But Nate?"

"Hm?" he hummed questioningly, almost as if he didn't trust himself to say anything aloud.

" _You_ aren't one of those people," she continued. She smiled after being rewarded for her words with a slow smile that crept from one of Nate's ears to the other. "Thank you, for everything really, especially saving me from myself back there."

"Anytime," he grinned. "Besides, I should thank you as well. You saved me from myself too, once or twice."

"Maybe we should just keep that up, since we're getting good at it," Kya chuckled.

He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, his thumb running along the line of her jaw and stopping at her chin.

"You do know this will never be easy, and it will end with us down in the Deep Roads," he said, suddenly serious.

"I know," she said softly but not quite matching his somber tone. "But at least we'll do it together. Won't we?"

Nate smiled and nodded, yet his chin trembled just a little when he did. "I'd like that."

He kissed her.

At some point, the wind shifted and the mist blew itself out. The sun peeked a bit from between the heavy clouds, tinting them faintly with gold. The silence that had been as much a part of the place as the bones, it blew itself out too as tiny bids and creatures emerged now that the darkspawn and the rain were gone.

"I still don't know," Nate said against her mouth, his forehead resting on hers and the cadence of his heartbeat like music against the palm of her hand. "I know why I feel this way, but I just can't figure out how I got so lucky. I've hardly earned it."

"Nate?"

"Yes?"

"Just shut up and kiss me again."

His lips were warm, soft, gentle and just hesitant enough to let he know he was sincere. He really had no idea. She could go on forever about him and hardly get started with how perfect it felt standing there in his arms. With Alistair, she'd always taken the lead, always been the strong one. With Loghain, she let herself be passive, let him be her guide. But with Nate? Even considering his shyness, his blindness to his own value – he was her equal. When they stood together, they stood _together._  Kya pressed herself against him as best she could with the bulk of her armor between them before reluctantly pulling away.

She held her hand out to him.

"Come on," she said as he accepted her hand. "I'll tell you all about how wonderful you are on the way. It's a long walk, so it should be just long enough for me to tell you exactly why you're worth loving and  _then_  have enough time to convince you it's actually true."

He looked appropriately sheepish, which went promptly on to Kya's list of why she loved him.


	20. Epilogue: A Lot of Things

**Epilogue**

_9:41 Dragon, Harvestmere; Southwest of Kirkwall, Planasene Forest_

The word from Kirkwall was not encouraging.

Not that anything had been encouraging in recent history. It wasn't that prior to the last five years Kya had been treated like a precious jewel certainly – being a mage was to be distrusted at the best of times – but with all this talk of rebellion and a huge upsurge of blood magic from the Free Marches? It had degraded quickly.

There had been rumors for years about Kya in Amaranthine. Whispers that her magic was dark and of course, they were hardly unfounded. But at the same time, she knew blood magic was hardly the bogey man the Chantry feared. It was a tool and a dangerous one, but so was a sword and they weren't sending people to the gallows simply for owning one. Whatever her opinion was, she knew eventually being a Grey Warden and the Hero of Ferelden wouldn't be enough to stop the angry villagers and their pitch forks.

She and Nate had managed to stay at the Vigil for almost seven years already, which was a minor miracle in and of itself. She had actually expected they'd have to flee after the incident with Anders, but that was years ago. She managed to convince the replacement seneschal (specially picked by the first Warden and sent to spy on her, she was sure) that the corpses weren't necessarily Anders fault… _it was just as likely that they encountered an emissary and then the darkspawn dragged Anders' corpse away_ …she didn't believe it, but he did and that was good enough. She had no idea where Anders had gone, but she knew he wasn't dead. Those other Wardens died at the blast of his spells – and she just let him go. He'd been through plenty for one lifetime. Maybe he'd find happiness out on the run. He'd been running away forever after all.

Anders and dead Wardens notwithstanding, eventually the rumors reached Weisshaupt, and she received a letter just as Loghain had all those years before. It requested that she relinquish command of the Grey Wardens of Ferelden and report to Weisshaupt. But the letter also suggested that if maybe she didn't arrive at Weisshaupt, well, that was okay too. It sounded like a dream come true.

But Nate got a letter too.

His offered the same ending, a one way trip to Weisshaupt, but there was a detour required. Apparently there was a word of some horrific lyrium artifact having been discovered in a lost thaig. And the rumor? The rumor said the lyrium was  _tainted._ And no, not just your run-of-the-mill magical curse taint, but the Tevinter magister strength, power used to propel themselves into the Fade and darkspawn curse from the damned Maker taint.

Kya thought it was a fairy tale most of her life,  _that raid on the Golden City_  nonsense, but she didn't discount things like that anymore.

So Nate was to go find this thing with a small group of Wardens and then bring it to Weisshaupt. They made it very clear that Kya was  _not_  to accompany him. After all, both Loghain and Sigrun had disappeared into the Deep Roads on their Calling already so the fact that she had not … not to mention that she still lived at all after facing an Archdemon?

They didn't trust her. She was getting used to it.

So they parted ways at Amaranthine and even the memory of that moment sent a pang through Kya's chest. Seven years was a long time, after all and what Kya had with Nate wasn't some momentary passion that would burn hot and then burn out when not fed with more fuel. She felt Nate in her blood just as much as she felt the taint – maybe even more. Maybe he was the reason she didn't just fall apart…but she couldn't tell that to the first Warden. She also couldn't tell him that she'd been dreaming about Morrigan lately and then daydreaming that maybe Morrigan would have… _knowledge_  that Kya desperately wanted.

Kya saw the way Nate looked at the children that ran screaming through the courtyard. She also knew about the taint…but she also knew that Morrigan….

When they parted, they planned to find each other outside of Kirkwall and travel together to Weisshaupt or somewhere. Though less dour than he was when they met, Nate was still a realist. He made no promises and no vows, but he said he would try. He did however promise to love her, and then turned toward the docks and the waiting ship as Kya turned south towards the Korcari Wilds.

She went to find Morrigan first.

And Kya found her eventually, but it didn't turn out at all like she had hoped. Surprisingly, Morrigan did understand Kya's pain. She said it was a  _curious_  thing, but it turned out she was not like her mother after all. She loved her child and did understand why Kya would desire one – though she only referred to 'her child' and refused to give any more details. But in the end, there was nothing she could do. Morrigan explained that she had only been able to conceive Loghain's child due to the newness of the taint in his blood and a significant amount of blood magic…and she herself did not carry the taint as Kya did.

Morrigan was honestly regretful she could not help her friend, but in the end she could only walk away. She did promise Kya she'd love her child and make sure that child knew the deeds of Loghain Mac Tir before Kya could even ask. Morrigan admitted her child had Loghain's eyes after all. But no, Kya could not meet her child. It was not to be. And then, with damp eyes, Morrigan walked away through the Eluvian and out of Kya's life for good.

Kya made her way out of the Deep Roads and said farewell to the companions that joined her in her search for Morrigan. She turned north again, traveling alone towards the spot she stood now, to wait for Nate's return. She had hoped to only be sad for what was not to be, for the child she wouldn't be able to give Nate, no matter how much she wanted to. Instead, she was frightened.

It had been three years since they had walked away from the Vigil and said goodbye. She'd searched longer for Morrigan than she had expected. There was no guarantee that Nate had even remained in Kirkwall although word when she arrived in the area said Nathaniel Howe  _had_  been spotted in Kirkwall recently – Delilah and her family had left Ferelden to start over where the stigma of her name was no longer such a burden. They were well known and respected in their new city and all still alive at last news, but last news was before the earth shattering blast and the flare of violet light that had burst in the distance.

There were a few horrifying bits of info she'd gotten from refugees since then, none of it good.

A mage had destroyed the Chantry, killing the Revered Mother and all the Sisters, along with many Templars and innocent bystanders. And then, then some Champion of Kirkwall person had come to the mage's aid? This woman, Maire Hawke, had helped him and the Circle of Magi rebel, and then the city exploded into war.

There was no word about Nate.

Kya wanted desperately to charge into the city to find him, but she knew that couldn't lead anywhere good. She was a mage after all, and even if it was only half as bad as she heard, even if the mages were winning? She would hardly be a welcome sight at the gates of the city. And since Kirkwall had some of the most famously secure gates of any city she'd heard of? All Kya could do was wait.

She made herself a camp just off the road, if one could call the dirt lane winding through the forest a road, far enough away that her little fire would be unobtrusive, but close enough that she could hear any comings and goings. It was late and her little fire had burned to nothing more than coals. The full Harvestmere moon hung overhead, but it was still warm so she didn't bother to feed the fire. Her eyelids were heavy; sheer exhaustion was overcoming her worry. That was when she heard the voice.

Not Ferelden or even Free Marches, a touch of an accent and …elven maybe?

"We are foolish to be on this road Hawke," the voice said, annoyed but with a surprising undertone of affection. The man snorted. "But no more foolish than taking …  _him_ …with us." There was exactly no affection when he said that.  _Hawke? Could it be the same one the refugees mentioned?_

A woman sighed in reply; Hawke apparently. "Not now Fenris," she said with a tone of frustration. "I don't need you two carping at each other now."

Kya had seen plenty of people come through here since the explosion, but these were different. They were speaking in hushed tones and traveling in the dead of night. She heard the distinctive clank of weapons. These weren't average travelers. But they also weren't templars. Mages or their supporters perhaps? Allies if she was lucky.

They walked in silence for a little bit and Kya crept to her feet, moving forward to get a look. She didn't want to pop out and surprise them; Nate had taught her enough of stealth that she didn't trip over her own feet. She'd also long ago stopped wearing plate mail and robes, switching to the lighter leather armor Nate preferred. He had this set made for her before they parted ways. She was never without it.

"I'm sorry I dragged you into this," a raspy, sullen voice said, breaking the silence. It was another man, and his voice gave Kya a strange feeling. She felt like she should know this voice, but it didn't sound entirely familiar. Kya could just barely make out their silhouettes then, but she could see when this Hawke woman, or so Kya guessed, in robes with a staff and a slouching pale haired elf at her side stopped dead in their tracks.  _A mage, Kya thought to herself_.

"You're sorry?" Hawke said as she whirled around. Her robes billowed out around her. "You're  _sorry_? You say you're sorry when you step on someone's toe, not when you blow up the fucking Chantry and start a  _war!_ " The pitch of her voice escalated as she continued.

"Hawke please," the man said, one of his hands coming to rest on her shoulder. The elf tensed. "I did it for us, for all  _mages_. You don't know how it was, you were never sent away to a tower…I just… I'd tried everything else already. Maker knows I tried. You were there! Someone had to take the first step. If not me, who else?"

The elf started toward him, but Hawke held him back. Her voice was the epitome of empathy. "I know your heart was in the right place Anders, but I'm not sure about your brain."

_Anders? ANDERS?_

"Anders?" Kya popped up and blurted it out before she could stop herself. She realized what she'd done just as the elf spun around and she found herself at the business end of a ridiculously enormous sword. She put up her hands, trying to look harmless.

"Anders," she repeated. "It's me. It's Kya."

Kya wasn't sure what to expect. Would he hug her or tell the elf to skewer her? She knew he'd come to resent her before he disappeared. Being a Grey Warden wasn't the freedom he'd hoped for. It was the only freedom she had to offer; the only option she had to spare him from the wrath of the templars, but she always felt that he forgot that bit.

What she didn't expect was the deep voice from the shadows. "Back off Fenris, she's with me."

That was a voice she recognized immediately. She stepped out around the sword and the elf, the wicked sharp blade slicing off a lock of her hair. Kya didn't even flinch. That voice belonged to the one person in Thedas she wanted to see more than any other.

"Nate?" she barely whispered it, not trusting her voice.

Three years; would he even still want her? They'd never made any promises, or said any vows. As pragmatic as Kya told herself she was, as much as the years had tempered her anger and her passion, she still led with her heart – and when it came to someone with so much power over her heart?

Nate's voice had come from behind Hawke's companions, including Anders who looked... _different_ and somehow haunted like he'd never been before. He forced a smile at her, but it was painful. At his side a tiny Dalish elf woman and …. Isabela? Kya didn't have time to be shocked before Nate appeared out of the shadows smiling broadly.

"Kya Amell," he said, striding towards her with long loping steps. Kya heard Hawke repeat her surname questioningly, but she couldn't bear to look away. There was a smudge of soot on his cheek and his dark armor was different, but it was him.

"Nathaniel Howe," Kya replied, hearing her voice hitch but not able to help herself. He frowned a little but reached out his hand. He looked as hesitant as she felt, but that's when she saw it. There were vows between them, unspoken vows that neither of them seemed interested in breaking.

Kya took his hand and then before it even registered what was happening, she was holding him and he was holding her; she wasn't sure who moved or if he kissed her first, but suddenly he tasted like smoke and everything in the world was right again.

Kya though her heart might leap out her chest.

"I'm guessing they know each other," Hawke said, chuckling. "And you know her too Anders? Wait…this is the Commander of the Grey Wardens then?" Before he could reply, Kya heard Isabela's voice.

"I  _know_  her too, Hawke," she laughed. "She and the King of Ferelden both."

"Maker, Izzy. Is there anyone in Thedas you haven't bedded?" Hawke chortled.

"Haven't gotten you and Fenris yet, but give me time."

"Don't hold your breath Rivani," Fenris growled.

"I hate to break up this fine moment," a new voice interrupted, "But since we're on the run, maybe we should consider, oh I don't know,  _running_?" Kya finally came up for a breath, looking over at Hawke and her companions. It had been a dwarf that had spoken – a blonde dwarf with no beard and an impressive display of chest hair.

Something new every day, Kya supposed. She looked carefully at the motley band; Hawke, the elf Fenris, Anders and the dwarf, Isabela, a Dalish elf, a pair of guards in plate mail who were holding hands. They all looked quite a bit worse for the wear. She turned her eyes back at Nate.

"I get the feeling you've got some things to tell me about," Kya said, raising her eyebrows at him.

He shrugged, his eyes merry despite what seemed to be some pretty dire circumstances. "It's been a hell of a three years. But whatever its been, whatever's coming, please tell me we aren't going in different directions again. I've had more life than I care to have without you already."

"I didn't have anything planned," she replied, feeling relief wash over her. She wanted nothing more than that.

"Good," he said quickly, punctuating with a kiss on her forehead. "Good. Actually..." He looked back. "Isabela, I have a question for you."

"What's that kitten? Are you hoping I'll help you welcome your dear Warden? As I recall she was quite enthusiastic the last time."

Nate flushed a bit. "Interesting though that might be," he cleared his throat as Kya giggled, a bit of questioning flickering across his expression. "I actually had something else in mind. I've heard ship Captains can perform weddings."

"We can, since you never know when... oh," Isabela stopped and grinned. "Well then."

"If you can restrain yourself until we've at least thrown off pursuit, I'll make Blondie give away the bride myself," the dwarf quipped, gesturing to Anders with a shake of his own blonde hair. "You okay with that Blondie? But let's try not to be dead first." He paused and put his hands on his hips. "That's if the bride says yes of course. I didn't hear a proposal."

Nate looked down at Kya.

"So?" he asked.

Kya grinned up at him. "Why not?"

As he leaned down to kiss her Hawke piped up. "That's it? That's your proposal?"

Nate shrugged fluidly but didn't stop to reply. He kissed Kya fiercely then slipped around behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and burying his nose in her hair.

Hawke shook her head. "Guess having a thing for taciturn men must be an Amell family trait."

Kya looked over at the woman, cocking her head. Now that she was standing closer, the moonlight revealed they had the same golden red shade of hair though Hawke's was cropped short and something about the shape of their faces seemed oddly similar.

"You know other Amells?" Kya asked. "I don't know any of my family."

"You do now," Hawke replied. "My mother was an Amell." She grinned at the admission. Long lost cousins and Grey Wardens and soon to be husbands all in one day. This was working out better than Kya had expected. "It's a long story, but it sounds like we'll have time to talk about it. If we don't all get killed by rampaging templars first."

"About that?" Kya asked.

"Longer story," Anders piped up finally. "I'll tell you before the wedding, promise."

"That is," Hawke continued, "If you are both coming with us."

"Like I said," Kya smiled. "Didn't have any other plans, other than spending the rest of my rather short life with Mister Talkative." She laughed. "Tall, dark and stoic. I guess we Amells do have a type after all."

Nate rubbed his chin on her hair. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

"No," Kya replied with absolute sincerity. "No, no I wouldn't."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time, the future King of Ferelden told Kya Amell that it didn't have to be deadly serious all the time. That was a lesson it took Kya longer to learn than any other. She'd not been built for happiness after all. All her life the Chantry and the Circle told her she was a weapon to be sheathed, a dangerous thing born to kill. And she was that – especially now – she'd ended a Blight, destroyed the Mother, loved a King, a Fallen Hero and a Pariah.
> 
> She killed an Archdemon and lived because of love; Morrigan's love, hers for Loghain and his for her. Now, she was on the run with a man that had tried to set another Exalted March into motion, a true apostate and an much to her surprise, some sort of abomination.
> 
> But now, of all times, she was planning on learning how to be happy with whatever time she had left. Now she was going to say a vow that would take her further than the last she spoke.
> 
> She understood the code of the Wardens well enough, and this new vow had the same ending. But this one, this one would bring more than bitterness and duty and pain. This one would give her a reason to keep fighting until the end.
> 
> It wouldn't be a fancy Chantry wedding, but all marriages have one thing in common.
> 
> Everyone plans on them being forever.
> 
> She promised the Wardens she'd end the Blight, she promised Alistair she'd honor Duncan, she promised Loghain she wouldn't live a life of bitterness and now she'd promised to love Nathaniel Howe until the day she died.
> 
> Kya Amell was a lot of things; mage and malificarum, apostate and Grey Warden, pretty and pragmatic. Despite her deeds, there wouldn't be any statues in her honor and no one would sing her praises when she was gone. But she wasn't the sort of person that went back on her promises and she wasn't about to start now.


End file.
